#what we found in the sofa and how it saved the world

[sophieswundergarten]

Sophie's really bad and also currently incomplete "Summary" of The Sofa Book

@nobody33333333 Here you go

I'm putting this under the cut because Moth said he might want to read it at some point. Everyone else is welcome to my insanity.

Also, fair warning, because I'm really bad at summarizing things so there's going to be a lot of touch and go with how detailed this is

I found this book in a bargain book bin several years ago in a local grocery store and my mother bought it for me because I thought it looked interesting.

I was right.

But it is also so many other things.

And it has an unprecedented number of references to other media, namely The Lord of the Rings, Star Wars, and A Wrinkle in Time, by my count

So, there's these three kids: River, Freak, and Fiona. River's parents died in a car crash, when he was little, and that also gave him a limp. River arrives at the bus stop one day to find a sofa just. Sitting there. (It is worth noting that the sofa is coloured similarly to Mr. Benedict's green suit. And that there is a possible bloodstain on one of the cushions)

River's friend Freak is sitting on the sofa, and soon their other friend Fiona shows up. Fiona is the only one of the trio to have a phone, but she also refuses to be seen with the boys in public because "girls mature faster than boys and [she] really [needs] to be with people [her] own age" and she tells the boys not to take it personally, it's just that emotionally the boys are both six.

Fiona's a lot of fun.

She also constantly wears very strange outfits with extremely clashing colours. No one mentions this to her.

So, the kids deduce that the couch probably belonged to "old man Underhill" since it's technically outside his driveway. Fiona suggests looking for loose change in-between the cushions. They find a peanut shell, a gum wrapper, a plaid sock, a weird coin that has two different people's heads and words in an unknown alphabet, a green crayon labeled "ZUCCHINI", and a fishhook that River discovers because he jams his hand into the couch and gets stabbed.

They save all of these things "for posterity", which is a good thing because Fiona then finds out that there are collectors out there who will pay a lot of money for it so she sets up an online auction.

Background information that is important: The town they live in (Cheshire) backs up to a coal-seam fire wasteland called Hellsboro, which has been burning for twelve years and was caused by some kind of accident at the Rodmore Chemical plant, the abandoned building at the center of Hellsboro. The three kids are the only people who live in the houses near Hellsboro, and the rest of the city is several miles away.

Also, phones and other technology are sold by the company Disin Tel, and basically every food is made by Agra Nation. And there are huge town-wide flash mobs that happen every so often, which the participants deny ever happening. This is a common argument with the kids as Fiona takes part in the flash mobs and the boys are annoyed she keeps pretending it never happened.

The crayon auction has now jumped to over seven thousand dollars, and the kids are freaking out. The bidding war is between GORLAB and Alecto, but River points out that technically they don't own the crayon, and should check with Mr. Underhill first.

They end up speaking to him through a speaker in the front gate of the Underhill house, at which point we discover that this man is, in fact, not Mr. Underhill. Mr. Underhill died at age 97 in a tobogganing accident. This guy is named Alf.

They mention that they found the crayon in the sofa, to which Alf replies "Oh, that sofa. I was wondering where it had gotten to. I didn't realize if was missing until yesterday even when I tried to sit down. Imagine my surprise."

Alf also references the fact that his pneumatic mail slot apparently ate the mailman's hand, but that's not relevant.

Alf suggests they meet after the kids get out of school to discuss the mattter (Dropping a few very specific details about the kids' lives that he has no way of knowing), and the kids agree.

River gets back to the gate early, and takes a nap on the sofa. He has a very strange dream involving his irritated and pedantic English teacher wearing a suit made out of the sofa upholstery. This is not, in fact, his English teacher, but rather "the sofa's spokesperson".

There is then a very confusing explanation about a place called "Indorsia" that is described as being like a landscape "on the inside surface of a giant, hollow sphere", which is where the sofa's from.

The sofa is a piece of "smart furniture", which means it "keeps itself clean; it digests stains; it can change its color to match the drapes" and also it grows from small, sugar-cube-like objects. This "makes it easier to pack if you're being pursued by storm troopers".

It takes a year for the sofa to grow to full size, and this sofa in particular has nanotech factories in both armrests, which can copy small objects once given a sample. (Such as replicating spare change)

Also, (And here you are, Bods) the sofa is the only entity in either their world or Indorsia to have the ability to tesser

This means it can teleport, with a maximum range of two miles and the need to recharge, but nonetheless quite impressive as it figured out how to do this on its own.

And it powers itself to do all these things by eating dust bunnies

AND WE'RE STOPPING HERE FOR TONIGHT BECAUSE I NEED TO GO EAT. I WILL TRY AND FINISH LATER, IF ANYONE'S INTERESTED :)

[swappedandtrapped]

Rent Help - Part 1

Hey, first thing I'm posting here. Character consistency with AI is difficult for me, so just go with it.

It wasn't a good time in my life. The pandemic hit, making me unemployed. I stayed at home to avoid getting sick and with nothing to do I was starting to find any excuse to go out of my room. I was renting this flat with another guy I found on Craigslist, Roy.

Roy was my age, he moved in from some place outside the county a few years ago and we managed to stay out of each others' way. Maybe except a few times I heard his booming voice shout at the TV, cursing other players in some online game. He was also too comfortable in the house, taking off his shirt and staying like that even when guests came over.

Slowly, the world came back to order. The quarantines stopped, but I was still out of a job. I ended up searching for a long while. I was struggling and really tried to be frugal. Eating cheap, saving up, the usual. But my savings were about to run out.

I was desperate, and even though I felt bad doing so, I asked Roy if he could lend me the money for rent. Roy, to my disappointment, refused. He said he had really bad experiences with friends he lent money to, but never payed him back. I begged, said it was a sure thing, I was willing to do anything, sign contracts, whatever he wanted.

"Sorry man," He said. "You know how it is, I can't let my friends owe me money," He insisted. "But if you're willing to do something for me in return, I think we can still work something out." I was hesitant. "What do you mean? Like doing your laundry?" "Well. Sort of." He smiled. "Just make sure to be free this weekend so you could help me with that thing." It was either that or become homeless, so I jumped to hug him "Yes, of course! Anything! Thanks man!" "No worries. I'll give you the details Friday morning."

The week went by quick. I wasn't sure what he wanted, but I guessed it was just some house work or doing errands for him. He was straight, so anything sex related was out of the question. I relaxed and knew that I won't be kicked out of my place. At least this month.

…

Friday morning came, but my alarm didn't go off. I woke from the direct sunlight peaking through the window curtains when I knew that my window was facing west. But the first thing that I knew was wrong was the smell. Something smelled... Wrong... Like someone else's laundry. In my half-asleep state, I turned on my side to get my phone to check the time. Eyes still closed, I couldn't feel the phone on my nightstand. I opened my eyes to see where the hell was it, but my heart stopped when I first saw my hand.

It definitely wasn't my hand. Darker skin, hairier, and a bit bigger than mine. I saw it was attached to a foreign arm with the same features of the hand. Darker skin, more hair, and bigger than mine. I gasped in fright and used the hand and arm to take off the blanket and reveal what was underneath.

Not my body. This is definitely not my body. I was wearing only pajama shorts, which I never do. My chest was thick, heavy, and hairy. My gut spilling over its own weight. My legs wiggled with fat from my movement. Wait, is this… Roy's body? I touched my chin and felt the beard Roy had. I took a look up from my body and saw I was actually in his bed, which is also in his room. What the fuck happened to me? What is going on? I run to a mirror to see if my fear is true. All I saw was Roy, having the same expression of horror I had.

I screamed, only to quickly stop and cover my mouth. What the hell was this sound coming out of me? "Ahh, test, test." I tried to listen and realized I also heard Roy's voice coming my throat. MY throat! I couldn't escape it. I tried looking for a way out of this body, clawing my skin to find an opening, but all I did was hurt myself.

I was out of breath. I started to sweat. The world was spinning and I had to sit down. After crashing on the shared living room sofa, my heartbeat lowered to a normal pace, but I was still shocked. "What the fu-" I said, surprised again to hear Roy's accent through my teeth. Was this a dream? What the fuck is going on?

"Can you keep it down? It's barely 8 o'clock." a voice behind me said. My voice. My real voice. I looked up to see who I assumed was "Roy?". I stood up to face him. "I didn't think you'd wake up this early, but whatever, I guess we can do this now." "You… You knew about this?" I stammered. "Wait. Did YOU do this?!" "Don't make a big deal out of it man, I told you I'll needed you on Friday." "FOR WHAT!?" I shouted, with his booming voice. "For replacing you?!"

"Don't give yourself too much credit. It's just for this weekend.". He started getting ready to go out. "And I don't need you to replace me, I just needed to not be me for a bit." "WHAT THE FUCK ROY?!" I started getting out of breath again. Maybe even a low-key panic attack. "Why didn't you say anything about that? I thought I was just gonna clean your room or something!"

"I don't understand why you're so upset. You're getting free rent money for basically just sitting on your ass all day." "Because you TOOK MY BODY." "Don't be dramatic, it's just for the weekend. I'm borrowing it." He put on my coat on his way out. "Couldn't you tell me before? How did you even do this?"

"That's not important, I've had this thing since I was little." He started putting on my shoes and tying his shoelaces. Listen, if you don't want this, we can switch back now, but forget about the rent. I'm not giving out free money. It's your choice."

I started to form an insult, but quickly realized this might be my only option. And is being in Roy's body for a weekend really that bad?

"And this is just for the weekend?" "Yes." "And all I have to do is stay here?" "Or go out, I don't care. I just need your body." "But why?" "That's where the money comes in. Most of the pay is for you being discreet about this." The gears in my head turned. "What, like something illegal? Sex? Don't do weird shit in my body." "Nothing sketchy, I promise, but I really need to go. I'll be back tomorrow."

He closed the door after him, leaving me still shocked at the situation he got me into.

Thanks for reading. Part 2 out soon.

[kayewrite]

WRONG IDEA RIGHT?!!

jeongin x reader!! prof jeongin x prof reader!! word count: 5k

genre: fluff, humor and..

summary: it started with a misunderstanding rumor, then a mess happened to professor yang's life.

an: I mean.. our maknae on top was always foine but seeing his instagram posts rn?? i cant help but to.. guys please read this!! this was too fun!!ps. im really sorry for being inactive! im not foine at all but im trying to be foine!!

Jeongin spotted a mosquito on your cheek as you were passionately explaining something. Without thinking, he raised his hand and—

“Pak!” The sound of the slap reverberated through the room as Jeongin’s palm connected with your face.

He blinked at his hand, confused. “Huh, it got away…” he muttered under his breath, completely ignoring the fact that you were now staring at him, clutching your stinging cheek in utter disbelief.

A thick, suffocating silence fell over the classroom. Every student had frozen mid-action, eyes wide, mouths open, not daring to breathe. Even Professor Yang, who had been explaining a diagram at the front, stood there with his pointer mid-air, looking as if someone had just dropped a bomb in the middle of his lecture.

You opened your mouth, then closed it, trying to piece together what just happened. Finally, through gritted teeth, you managed to stammer, "Why… did you slap me, Professor Y-Yang?"

A wave of shocked whispers exploded across the classroom.

“Oh my god, did Professor Yang just slap Professor (Y/N)?!”

“No way! That’s gonna be on the news for sure!”

“Do you think they’re secretly dating?!”

One girl gasped dramatically. “Did he dump her in front of everyone? OMG, is this a public breakup?”

Meanwhile, Jeongin stood there, his brain completely short-circuited. He had messed up. Badly.

Before he could open his mouth to explain, Principal Lee suddenly appeared, yanking Jeongin by the arm. "Professor Yang, we need to have a word. Now."

"W-Wait, I can explain—" Jeongin sputtered, but Principal Lee wasn’t having any of it and practically dragged him out of the room.

And just like that, you were left standing there, cheek still throbbing, while the rumor mill went into overdrive.

Later that evening, determined to clear the air, you stormed over to Jeongin’s house.

“JEONGIN!” you bellowed, bursting through his front door without even knocking. “Where are you?!”

A muffled, panicked voice came from somewhere in the house. “I-I’m not here!”

“You idiot, I can hear you!”

You found him crouched behind the sofa, wide-eyed and frantically searching for an escape. The moment he saw you, pure panic flashed across his face. Without missing a beat, he bolted for the window.

“OH NO YOU DON’T!” you screamed, lunging at him. Grabbing him by the back of his shirt, you yanked him down before he could launch himself out the window like some kind of fugitive.

The next thing you knew, you were both on the floor, with you straddling him and furiously punching his chest. “HOW DARE YOU SLAP ME IN PUBLIC?!”

Jeongin held up his hands defensively. “There was a MOSQUITO on your face!” he yelped.

“A mosquito?! You expect me to believe that garbage?!”

“Yes! I swear! I saw it!” Jeongin insisted, trying to shield his head from your onslaught of punches. “I was trying to save you from getting bitten!”

You paused, fists mid-air, eyes narrowing suspiciously. “And do you know what everyone’s saying now?!” you demanded.

Jeongin gulped, shaking his head.

“They think you dumped me in public and that I’m OBSESSED with you!”

Jeongin winced. “W-Wait… What? Obsessed?! How did that even—"

Before he could finish, you grabbed him by the collar and shook him. “You RUINED my reputation!”

“I swear it was just a mosquito!” Jeongin whimpered.

Then, in a last-ditch effort to stop you, Jeongin did the most unexpected thing—he cupped your cheeks and kissed you, right there, on the lips.

The world came to a screeching halt.

Your fists dropped to your sides as your eyes widened. You blinked at him in shock, feeling your face heat up. Slowly, your hand came up to touch your lips. “O-Okay…” you stammered. “I-I believe you… about the mosquito, I guess.”

Jeongin let out a breath of relief, his face redder than a tomato. "Y-Yeah! That’s what I was trying to tell you!”

But then, reality hit you both at the same time.

You squinted at him. “Wait. What about the kiss? What was that?”

Jeongin’s mind went into overdrive. “Uh… uh… it was, um… to make you stop hitting me?”

“Oh,” you said softly, your voice suddenly tender. “Well, I’ll also accept your confession.”

“Wait, what?” Jeongin froze. “C-Confession?!”

You smiled sweetly, batting your eyelashes. “You like me, don’t you?”

Jeongin’s soul left his body. “EH?!”

“Well, it’s about time! I like you too!” you announced triumphantly. “What took you so long to admit it, huh? You were probably hiding it because we’ve been friends for years, right?”

Jeongin’s jaw dropped. “Uh, I—”

You giggled, covering your face in embarrassment. “Don’t be shy, Jeongin! You can be my boyfriend now!”

Jeongin was in full panic mode. He didn’t like you like that! He had just kissed you out of desperation, not romance!

But now, standing in front of you, with your eyes sparkling and a grin on your face, he realized he was in way too deep to back out.

Well, guess I’m in this mess now, he thought miserably.

--

You couldn’t contain your excitement as you skipped down the halls of the university the next day, practically glowing. “Jeongin and I are dating!” you had blurted out to your colleagues the moment you walked in, unable to hold back the giddiness.

Word spread like wildfire. By lunchtime, practically every professor and student knew about your newfound “relationship” with Jeongin, and you were basking in all the attention. It wasn’t long before everyone started congratulating you—your students, your fellow professors, even Principal Lee.

Meanwhile, Jeongin? He was suffering.

“Congratulations, Professor Yang!” Professor Kim grinned, clapping Jeongin on the back so hard it almost knocked the air out of him. “It’s about time someone tied you down!”

“T-Thanks,” Jeongin managed to say, his smile so stiff you’d think it was glued on. His brain was doing mental gymnastics trying to figure out how to survive the day without letting his entire soul implode from embarrassment.

“Ohhh, Professor Yang, I had no idea you were such a romantic!” cooed Professor Park, winking as she passed by. “First the slap, then the kiss! Very bold of you!”

Jeongin’s smile faltered as he tried to laugh it off. “Y-Yeah, bold… that’s me…”

You popped up beside him, completely oblivious to his inner turmoil. “Jeongin! Can you believe it? Everyone’s so happy for us!”

Jeongin shot you a weak smile. “Yeah… ha… so happy.”

Principal Lee suddenly appeared out of nowhere, clapping Jeongin on the shoulder. “You sly dog! First you slap her in front of the whole class, and then this?! What a power move!”

Jeongin’s face was a shade of red not yet discovered by humans. “It’s not… I mean… well…”

You beamed at Principal Lee. “Right?! Isn’t he the sweetest? We’ve been neighbors for years, and I always knew there was something there!”

Jeongin felt his soul leave his body again as he gave Principal Lee yet another strained smile. “Yup… definitely… something…”

Principal Lee let out a hearty laugh. “You’ve made quite the impression, Professor Yang. Keep it up!”

As soon as the principal walked away, Jeongin turned to you, his face twisted in a mix of desperation and panic. “You… you told everyone?”

You nodded cheerfully. “Of course! Why wouldn’t I? This is the best thing that’s happened to me in ages!”

Jeongin wanted to crawl into a hole and disappear. But before he could say anything, a group of students walked by, whispering loudly.

“Did you hear? Professor Yang kissed Professor (Y/N) after slapping her in front of the whole class!”

“Yeah, I heard! Talk about a whirlwind romance!”

“I bet they’ve been secretly dating for years!”

Jeongin clenched his fists, trying to maintain the fake smile plastered on his face. This was getting way out of hand. He hadn’t even processed what was happening himself, and now the whole university was acting like they’d been following his fake love life like it was the hottest new K-drama.

You, on the other hand, were in your element, waving at everyone and basking in the attention. “Come on, Jeongin!” you said, grabbing his arm and pulling him along. “Let’s go to lunch together. It’s our first official lunch date as a couple!”

Jeongin followed along helplessly, his heart sinking further with every passing second. “Lunch… date… great…”

As you both made your way to the cafeteria, you were all smiles and sunshine, happily chatting about how perfect everything was. Meanwhile, Jeongin stared blankly ahead, his mind going a million miles a minute.

How am I going to survive this? he thought miserably, his fake smile twitching as another professor gave him a teasing thumbs-up.

--

One week into this "relationship," Jeongin was still struggling to survive. The whole thing had snowballed out of control. The once small, laughable rumor had now solidified into a full-blown campus-wide "fact." Teachers, staff, and students alike were fully convinced that he and you were happily dating.

You, on the other hand, were living your best life. Your joy at the situation was contagious. Every time someone asked about the relationship, you gave them an enthusiastic update.

“Oh yeah, Jeongin and I went out for dinner the other night,” you casually mentioned in the teacher’s lounge one morning, and the other teachers lit up.

“Where did you go?” Professor Park asked, leaning in with interest.

“Just this little Italian place downtown. Jeongin insisted on treating me,” you said, smiling like a lovesick puppy. Of course, none of it actually happened, but it didn’t matter. Your storytelling skills had everyone hanging on your every word.

Meanwhile, Jeongin, sitting quietly at the corner of the lounge, pretended to sip his coffee while his life slowly unraveled before his eyes.

“Oh my god, Jeongin is such a gentleman!” someone whispered loudly, and the rest of the teachers nodded in agreement.

Jeongin internally screamed. Gentleman? Me? I just wanted to correct one misunderstanding, and now I’m the romantic lead in a drama I didn’t sign up for!

At school, things were no better. Jeongin couldn’t walk down the hallway without a student giving him an admiring look or a cheeky thumbs-up. Every day felt like a test of his endurance.

“Professor Yang, I heard you and Professor (Y/N) are like, relationship goals,” one student said as Jeongin walked into class. He froze, mid-step.

“Uh... thanks?” he managed to choke out.

Another student chimed in, “Yeah, my girlfriend and I look up to you guys. You’re the perfect example of true love!”

Jeongin felt his soul leave his body. True love? Are you kidding me? He forced a smile and shuffled to his desk, all while internally begging for some cosmic intervention to end his suffering.

--

After weeks of the messed up situation (for jeongin)..

Jeongin stood at the front of the class, his usual calm, professional demeanor in place. He was explaining the day’s lesson on statistics, but something was off. One of the students kept shifting in their seat, glancing nervously between him and their textbook. Finally, unable to hold it in any longer, they raised their hand.

“Professor Yang…” the student began, their voice wavering slightly.

Jeongin paused, turning his attention to the student. “Yes? Do you have a question about the lesson?”

The student fidgeted. “Not exactly. It’s just… um… I really like Professor (Y/N). Like, a lot.”

Jeongin blinked, completely thrown off. The class fell into a hush, eyes wide, as they eagerly awaited his reaction. He felt his heart race, but somehow managed to keep his expression neutral.

Clearing his throat, Jeongin forced a smile. “Well… if you want a girlfriend like Professor (Y/N), you should focus on your studies. Get good grades, graduate, and maybe one day, someone just as amazing will come into your life.”

The student’s face flushed as the class erupted into giggles, and Jeongin awkwardly scratched the back of his head. This day can’t get any weirder, he thought to himself.

Later that afternoon, Jeongin found himself sitting across from you in the faculty cafeteria, trying to shake off the awkwardness of that confession. You, as usual, were happily digging into your lunch, oblivious to the chaos he’d dealt with.

Just as Jeongin was about to take a bite of his sandwich, you suddenly said, “I think we should break up for a while.”

Jeongin froze mid-bite, his eyes widening as he looked at you in shock. “W-What?”

You sighed, setting down your fork. “It’s just that… I think our ‘relationship’ is causing more harm than good. A lot of my students are heartbroken, you know?”

Jeongin blinked, still not processing what you were saying. “Heartbroken?”

“Yeah,” you continued, shrugging casually. “They all have a crush on you. Some of them have even stopped coming to my classes. It’s kind of a problem.”

Jeongin was stunned, staring at you as if you’d just told him the sky was green. “Wait… you’re saying we should ‘break up’ because our students are heartbroken that we’re together?”

You nodded, completely serious. “Exactly. I’ll fix it, and once things settle down, we can get back together. Simple, right?”

For a moment, Jeongin didn’t know what to say. He just sat there, dumbfounded. But then, slowly, he felt a smile tug at the corners of his lips. The absurdity of the situation was too much.

“Sure,” he said, trying to suppress the growing grin on his face. “I mean, yes. We should definitely, uh… fix our students first.”

You smiled back, completely missing the relief that was practically radiating off of Jeongin. “Great! Glad we’re on the same page.”

As you went back to eating your lunch, Jeongin sat there, still smiling to himself, feeling like he had just dodged the weirdest bullet of his life.

--

The news of your "breakup" spread faster than a wildfire during a heatwave. Within hours, whispers of your separation had reached every corner of the university. Students exchanged shocked glances, and staff members, who had once teased you both relentlessly, now approached with sympathetic smiles.

You sat in the faculty lounge, sipping on a cup of tea, when Professor Choi from the History department quietly slid into the seat next to you.

“I heard,” she said softly, resting a hand on your shoulder. “I’m so sorry to hear about you and Jeongin. Breakups are never easy, especially when you still have to see each other every day.”

You nodded, biting your lip to keep from laughing at the absurdity of it all. "Yeah… it’s been rough," you muttered, trying to look appropriately heartbroken.

Meanwhile, Jeongin was getting his own dose of sympathy. He sat at his desk, furiously typing up notes, when Principal Lee casually strolled over and leaned against the doorway.

“Yang,” the principal said in a low, solemn voice, “I know it’s tough right now, but… if you need to take some time off to, you know, process everything, just say the word. We all understand.”

Jeongin looked up, his face blank. “Time off?”

Principal Lee nodded, crossing his arms. “After the breakup… it can’t be easy to work with someone you still have feelings for.”

Jeongin blinked, finally registering what was happening. Oh right, the breakup. They think I’m upset…

Realizing he had to play along, Jeongin sighed dramatically, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah… it’s been hard.”

The principal clapped him on the shoulder. “Take care of yourself, Yang. Don’t hesitate to ask for support if you need it.”

As soon as Principal Lee left, Jeongin leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. This is getting ridiculous, he thought, but couldn’t help smiling. The sympathy and comfort he was receiving was nice, though it felt incredibly unnecessary.

During lunch, the two of you crossed paths in the hallway. You caught each other’s eye, and despite everything, Jeongin had to stifle a laugh. You both knew how ridiculous the situation had become, but there was no turning back now.

“Got a lot of support?” you asked with a grin.

Jeongin nodded, smirking. “More than I can handle. They think I’m a broken man.”

You laughed. “And yet here you are, looking completely unbothered.”

Jeongin shrugged, unable to hide the mischievous twinkle in his eye. “What can I say? I’m handling it really well.”

--

By the end of the week, the whole campus was buzzing with the “tragic” news of your breakup. You couldn’t walk down the hallway without someone giving you a sympathetic look or a pat on the shoulder, and Jeongin… well, he was practically swimming in support from all directions.

On Friday morning, as you arrived at your desk, you found a small gift bag with a note attached.

Stay strong, Professor (Y/N)! Heartbreak is tough, but you’re tougher! - Faculty Support Team

You shook your head, trying not to burst into laughter. Jeongin had just walked in, clearly trying to avoid eye contact with anyone for fear of being bombarded with more sympathetic words. But as fate would have it, Professor Lee from the Economics department appeared out of nowhere, placing a hand on Jeongin’s shoulder.

“Yang,” Professor Lee said in a voice heavy with emotion. “I just want to say… we’re all really proud of how strong you’ve been. You’ve handled this breakup with so much grace. It’s truly inspiring.”

Jeongin blinked, forcing a tight-lipped smile. “Uh… thanks?”

“If you ever want to talk about it,” Professor Lee continued, “my door is always open. Sometimes, it helps to let it all out.”

Jeongin could barely suppress an eye roll but managed to keep his expression neutral. “I appreciate that.”

As soon as Professor Lee left, Jeongin plopped down in the chair next to yours, groaning. “I can’t take much more of this. It’s like everyone thinks I’m seconds away from a meltdown.”

You snorted. “They’re just being considerate. You are going through a ‘devastating’ breakup, remember?”

Jeongin sighed dramatically. “Yeah, but do they have to constantly remind me? I’ve been offered counseling, time off, and even baked goods—like, six times this week.”

You grinned. “That sounds like a pretty sweet deal to me.”

Jeongin shot you a playful glare. “Easy for you to say. You’re over here getting gift bags.”

The two of you shared a laugh, and for a moment, the whole ridiculous situation didn’t seem so bad. But then, as if the universe had a personal vendetta against Jeongin, Principal Lee strolled into the lounge, spotting you both at once.

“Ah, Professors!” Principal Lee said, a knowing smile tugging at his lips. “It’s good to see you two… managing things so well.”

Jeongin internally groaned. Here we go again.

“I just wanted to say,” Principal Lee continued, his tone taking on a deep, meaningful note, “you’ve both handled this transition with such professionalism and maturity. I’m proud of how you’ve put your students first during this difficult time.”

You and Jeongin exchanged a glance, you gave a solemn nod. “Thank you, sir. We’re just trying to focus on what’s best for everyone.”

Principal Lee gave a final nod of approval before walking away, leaving the two of you.

Jeongin sighed deeply. “Professionalism. Maturity.”

You giggled. “Hey, at least no one’s asking if we’re getting back together yet.”

Jeongin rolled his eyes with a smile. “Give them time.”

--

After the news of your "breakup" spread, the campus vibe completely shifted. Students who once looked heartbroken at the sight of you and Jeongin together were now noticeably more cheerful. Some even started paying extra attention during Jeongin’s lectures, no longer distracted by their imaginary heartbreaks. The campus seemed to breathe a collective sigh of relief.

In particular, a few students had grown oddly enthusiastic about your newfound "single" status.

One day, during lunch break, you left the faculty room to grab a coffee.

Across the room, Jeongin was pretending to focus on his papers, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw an entire thing unfold. A tall student, clearly nervous but determined, had crept into the faculty room, glanced around cautiously, and then swiftly placed the milk on your desk before practically running out.

Jeongin raised an eyebrow. What the…?

As soon as the student was out of sight, curiosity got the better of him. He glanced around the room to make sure no one else was watching, then stood up and made his way over to your desk. He leaned down, inspecting the little pink carton like it was evidence in a crime scene.

Strawberry milk? Really?

Jeongin shook his head, slightly amused. He knew exactly what was happening—some student had a crush on you, and now that the breakup rumors were out there, they were shooting their shot.

Jeongin leaned against your desk, arms crossed, staring at the milk with an expression that could only be described as a mix of disbelief and mild irritation.

First they’re heartbroken, and now they’re trying to make a move? he thought, a small smirk playing on his lips. He wasn’t sure if he should be amused or… annoyed.

Just then, you walked back into the room, catching sight of Jeongin standing near your desk with a carton of strawberry milk in his hand.

“Uh… what are you doing?” you asked, narrowing your eyes suspiciously.

Jeongin looked up, trying to act nonchalant as he pointed to the milk. “You’ve got an admirer, it seems.”

You blinked in surprise. “What?”

He handed you the milk, still smirking. “Found this on your desk. Some student dropped it off, probably hoping to win your heart with sweet drinks.”

You stared at the carton, then back at Jeongin, trying to process what he was saying. “A student… gave me strawberry milk?”

Jeongin nodded, leaning in slightly. “And not just any student. That tall one from your class—the one who always sits in the back and pretends he’s not staring at you the whole time.”

You rolled your eyes, but a small smile tugged at your lips. “Well, at least it’s not another breakup sympathy gift.”

Jeongin chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Yeah, but now you’ve got students lining up to be your rebound.”

You playfully swatted his arm. “Oh, shut up.”

But as you sat down, opening the milk and taking a sip, Jeongin couldn’t help but feel a strange mix of emotions. He didn’t like you romantically—that much he knew. But seeing other people making moves on you… it felt odd. Not bad exactly, just… odd.

Still, he shrugged it off, returning to his desk with a final glance at you sipping the strawberry milk.

Well, at least she seems to be enjoying it, he thought, shaking his head with a quiet chuckle.

Over the next few days, you noticed more of those small gestures—the occasional extra pen left on your desk, little notes with doodles, and once, someone even left a small bouquet of sunflower. The attention from your students, though sweet, was starting to get a bit overwhelming. Meanwhile, Jeongin was secretly keeping track of every “gift” like a personal tally, finding it both amusing and somewhat annoying.

But today, Jeongin found himself in a particularly bad mood. He wouldn’t admit it, but every time he saw one of your students sneaking something onto your desk, it grated at him more than usual. And the last straw came when you received yet another carton of strawberry milk.

This time, Jeongin was teaching in the adjacent classroom when he noticed the same tall student from before standing outside the faculty room, peeking in to make sure no one saw him. The moment the coast was clear, the student dashed inside and left another carton on your desk, sneaking away as fast as he came.

Jeongin frowned. Again with the strawberry milk? Is this guy serious?

Later, as you entered the room after class, Jeongin was already standing there, staring at the carton as if it had personally offended him.

“Uh… are you collecting these now?” you teased, walking toward your desk.

Jeongin held up the milk with a bemused expression. “Don’t you think it’s weird that this guy keeps giving you strawberry milk? I mean, come on, he’s got no creativity.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You’re jealous of a carton of milk now?”

Jeongin blinked. “W-What? No! I just think it’s… repetitive,” he grumbled, crossing his arms.

You laughed and took the milk from his hand, giving him a light-hearted smile. “I think it’s kind of sweet. You know, harmless.”

Jeongin snorted, clearly unimpressed. “Sweet, huh? Well, maybe he should try actually talking to you instead of leaving mystery drinks on your desk.”

You were about to respond when suddenly, the tall student walked past the door, clearly not expecting to see Jeongin still standing there. He froze, eyes wide as he saw Jeongin holding the milk, his face turning beet red.

“Oh—uh, hi, Professor Yang!” the student stammered, nervously fidgeting.

Jeongin’s eyes narrowed slightly, but his smile remained in place—though it definitely didn’t reach his eyes. “Ah, it’s you again. What’s this, another gift for Professor (Y/N)? You know, if you want a girlfriend like her, you should focus on your studies first. Maybe graduate, too, before you start handing out milk.”

The student’s face turned even redder, and he gave a quick nod before practically running away.

You gave Jeongin a look. “Did you just… scare him off?”

Jeongin shrugged, feigning innocence. “I’m just encouraging academic focus. That’s my job.”

You rolled your eyes and shook your head, laughing softly as you sat down. “You’re impossible.”

--

One afternoon, as you stood outside the faculty room, you were approached by the father of one of your students. He looked a little troubled, so you smiled warmly and asked how you could help.

"Ah, Professor (Y/N), I just wanted to talk to you about my son's performance in class," the father started, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "He's been struggling lately, and I think it's because of some issues at home…"

You listened attentively, nodding as he explained the situation. Unbeknownst to you, Jeongin had just come out of his own classroom and saw you in conversation with the man. Out of habit, Jeongin walked over, stopping beside you. He crossed his arms and subtly observed the situation, his expression calm but his gaze sharp.

The conversation with the student's father went on for a few minutes, mostly focused on academics. But then, out of nowhere, the man smiled a little too warmly and said, "You know, Professor (Y/N), I really appreciate how much you care about the students. Maybe I could get your number so I can reach you if there’s anything else about my son I need to discuss?"

Before you could respond, Jeongin stepped forward. “Actually, I’m Professor Yang, her colleague,” he interjected smoothly, a polite but firm smile on his face. “You can contact me directly if there’s anything you need to discuss about your son’s progress. I’ll make sure the message reaches Professor (Y/N).”

The father looked a little taken aback by Jeongin’s sudden presence but nodded slowly, glancing between the two of you. “Oh, I see. Well, thank you, Professor Yang.” He accepted the number Jeongin offered, then awkwardly excused himself.

Once he was gone, you turned to Jeongin, your arms crossed, eyebrow raised. “You didn’t have to do that, you know.”

Jeongin rolled his eyes. “Trust me, I did.”

You chuckled, nudging him lightly. “What, were you jealous of a parent now? I mean, come on, he was just asking for my number.”

Jeongin’s jaw clenched slightly, and you could see the faintest flush on his cheeks. “Jealous? No. I’m just being cautious. That guy… something felt off.”

You chuckled, giving him a light nudge. “Sure, sure. You’re totally not jealous.”

Jeongin stayed silent for a moment before turning to face you fully. His expression was serious now, his usual playfulness gone. “Look, I’m kind of tired of this… seeing things like that happening.”

You blinked, confused. “What do you mean?”

Jeongin sighed, rubbing the back of his neck before blurting out, “You should just get back together with me already.”

Your eyes widened in surprise, completely caught off guard. “Wait, what?”

He looked at you, dead serious now. “Yeah. I’m tired of pretending. All this break-up stuff and guys sneaking around leaving you milk—it’s driving me crazy. So, let’s just stop playing games and get back together.”

You stared at him for a moment, trying to process his sudden confession. Then, a teasing grin spread across your face. “Wow, Jeongin… I didn’t know you were this in love with me. You’re really losing it, huh?”

Jeongin rolled his eyes, but there was a small smile tugging at his lips. “You’re impossible.”

You laughed and leaned in closer. “Alright, fine. We’ll get back together… but,” you paused for effect, “let’s keep it a secret relationship. You know, for the thrill of it.”

Jeongin raised an eyebrow, clearly not amused by the suggestion. “No.”

You blinked. “No? Why not?”

He crossed his arms, standing firm. “If we’re getting back together, I’m letting everyone know. I’m not hiding it.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, feeling a mix of surprise and excitement. You raised an eyebrow. “Wow… you’re really serious.”

Jeongin nodded, his gaze steady. “Yeah. I am.”

News spread like wildfire—no, like how Lightning McQueen drives! In no time, whispers of “Professor Yang and (Y/N) are back together!” buzzed through the halls.

And this time, Jeongin wasn’t just accepting congratulations; he was practically beaming! With a newfound confidence, he grinned as faculty members and students approached him, slapping him on the back and congratulating him on “landing the best professor in the university.”

“You’re a lucky guy, Professor!” one student chirped during class, his eyes wide with admiration. “I hope I can get a girlfriend like her someday!”

Jeongin smirked, leaning back in his chair. “If you want someone like me, you better ace my quizzes!” He paused, his smile growing mischievous. “Alright, everyone, grab a piece of paper! Surprise quiz time!”

Later, while you were teaching your class, a girl shyly raised her hand. “What’s it like being Jeongin’s girlfriend?!” She squealed, and the rest of the class leaned in, practically vibrating with excitement.

You couldn’t help but laugh, loving the attention. “Well, let me tell you, it’s like having a baby dinosaur in your life!” You grinned as they squealed, hanging on your every word. “He’s really sweet, but also super clumsy. When we were kids, he once tripped over his shoelaces while trying to impress me with a magic trick. Spoiler: the magic trick failed, but it was pretty funny.”

The students were wide-eyed, hanging on to your every word, as you shared more stories about Jeongin and his antics growing up. Laughter filled the room as you recounted tales of his childhood mishaps, and you could see how much they adored the idea of their professors being so relatable and real.

"Now can someone answer my question, just like his magic trick.. why rubbing a plastic pen through your hair pick up little bits of paper in science?" you smirked

After all the chaos of rumors, misunderstandings, and awkward moments, it felt good to share those light-hearted memories with them. You glanced over at Jeongin, who was peeking into your classroom with a playful grin, and your heart swelled with happiness.

As the day wound down, you couldn’t help but think: After all the mess and everything, life is good. You had your friends, your job, and most importantly, you had Jeongin—your partner in crime and your forever accomplice in laughter.

-----------------------------

an: thank you for reading. a heart, reblog, and comment is very much appreciated

(randomly mentioning some jeongin stans. thankyou)

masterlist

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Always have but never hold

Previous chapter

a/n Welcome to the tenth and final part. Do tell me if you think this should go on. I'm at the crossroads. Not too fully sure where to go on with this from here. These two have had a journey so had I. Thank you for everyone who tagged along. 🤍✨

warnings: nightmares, overwhelming feelings, past trauma, miscommunication (should have been a warning from the start lol).

Parts in cursive are flashbacks.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

How surreal is the concept of meeting someone and having them change your life forever? Finding a soul that radiates the same energy, or at least the energy that attracts you. Feeling drawn to them. Craving to bask in the warmth of their presence because it just feels right. Because it feels true. Because it feels safe. And you can't help it. No matter what. No matter the obstacles. No matter the fears. That person's soul is there, and all you want to do and think about is how you can't let them go. It was weird. Everything still felt so confusing. It was surreal at times when you would wake up in your old bed, cuddled up between the sheets that you both used to lay under. All the what-ifs and why-not, questioning the choice of staying. Choosing to grow and forgive to allow someone to stay.

Carmen walked through the door. A neatly wrapped package of food was in his hands. He started doing that a lot—bringing food home from family. And not just leftovers, not just something that someone didn't eat. A whole, fully intentional meal. The apartment seemed too silent, and at first, anxiety kicked in—that same anxiety of losing. But the dull light from the living room soon chased those thoughts away. And that's when he saw you. A knitted blanket over your body. Book in your hands, the smell of the scented candles filling the room. And then there were your eyes. The gaze that found him. And Carmen was smiling, soaking up the sight in front of him.

"You're home early", you said as Carmen quickly shrugged off his jacket. "Yeah, not much we could do today. Plus, I had a meeting with the doctor". You close the book, sit up, and allow Carmen some space on the sofa. "How did it go?", the past couple of weeks have felt pretty much like a daze. After an endless amount of tears and conversations, you agreed to move back in with Carmen. Marcus had flown back to Copenhagen alongside Luca. Meaning that you would have to pay for the place you had been renting on your own. And that wasn't an option because you were already tight on money. Was Luca excited to leave you alone in Chicago? No, he was not, but he chose to not fight your choice too much.

"Just be sensible", he said, "Both with your choice and yourself", you hugged him tightly. Letting go of your lifeline felt weird. It left you vulnerable. Fully exposed to the cold world around you. But you knew that you couldn't hide behind Luca forever. "You know that I love you, right?", he muttered, pulling away slightly. "Us against the world forever", you looked at him. Truly look at the man in front of you. The person who jumped in to save you so many times. Who took the hit meant for you. Who drove for hours to get to you. Who sat in the doctor's office with you. "Do you think this is a mistake?", you asked him, but there was no suggestive reaction on Luca's face as he said, "Listen to your heart and then consult with your brain just in case", you had chuckled at his words before you pulled away.

And now you are here with Carmen. Unsure of what status you two held. Partners? Lovers? Exes? Strangers? Sitting in the apartment, which had been clear evidence of Carmen's pain. The distraction painted the apartment in a heap of mess. "I didn't like it. I mean, I never do", Carmen ran his hands through his hair. "It still feels strange. But people... like, I don't know, do they eventually stop finding it weird?", he asked you. Considering that you both were in therapy now, recapping and running through your conversations with doctors was something you did a lot. Strangely, you found comfort in it.

"I don't think you do", you whispered after a moment. "Picture it like this. Does it ever get easier to tell strangers that something in your life fucked you over so much that now you need to see a doctor?", you both snickered, and Carmen moved to open up the boxed food. It felt almost as if you were roommates once again. Just differently from that time in New York, you didn't want one to move out. You were fighting to make this work. To keep one another. To grow the roots that would hold you together.

"How was the art gallery?", you looked up at him in a way surprised that he even remembered. "Exciting. They want me to work on a project with them", you said as if it was nothing. But Carmen's eyes were big, and you could feel true joy in them. "Wait! That's awesome. That's... I'm proud of you", he muttered. You watched him. His sparkly eyes now reminded you of the time he sneaked into an art tour you were doing back in New York. Asking just the right questions. Making the lazy tourists roll their eyes. But your heart had been so full. "I'm meeting with them this Friday for dinner", you said. "Maybe they'll change their minds till then", you shrugged, reaching for the pasta in front of you. "They won't", Carmen said, making you chuckle, "You don't know that", "I know that you're awesome", you sucked in a breath as you watched him for a moment. Letting his words truly sink in.

Carmen's been watching you for a while now. Not in a creepy way, though. He was just mesmerized by how someone was capable of looking so beautiful even while fast asleep. You two had decided to watch a show after dinner. He knew you wouldn't last long. You never did. Getting sleepy almost immediately. The distance between you two seemed astronomical, yet you were only a couple of feet away. Sat at the other end of the sofa. Carmen wished he could hug you. No, he would have settled for anything. But then he at least wanted to feel your body heat. Anything to let him know that this wasn't just all in his head. That you weren't just a cruel joke of his imagination. Carmen watched your eyebrows crinkling up—another bad dream, he thought. And within moments, even while still asleep, you looked so much smaller. So much more powerless as the demons lurking in the shadows took over. Carmen wasted no time scooting closer to you, his fingers brushing the hair away from your face. A scared cry left your lips, and it was as if Carmen's body was working on autopilot. His arms sneaked around your middle as he pressed his chest against your back, bringing you closer to him. Your fingers reach out to grasp his arms. "I've got you", he muttered, "You're safe here. I'll keep you safe". His face was nuzzled in your hair as he spoke. A loud gasp filled the room as your body jerked up, only to fall against Carmen's chest. You let out a shaky breath as you tightened Carmen's hold around you. Afraid you might fall. Afraid you might crumble if he lets go. "Stay", you whispered, holding onto him even tighter. "I was not planning on going anywhere", Carmen muttered, kissing your shoulder.

"I like the black plates. He, of course, has zero opinion until he suddenly has so many opinions that I feel like I will have a whiplash", Sydney said in frustration over the phone. You giggled slightly at how she never failed to call you every time Carmen got on her nerves. "Do the gray one and meet him in the middle", you suggest, dunking your brush into the paint before adding new strokes to the canvas. "Grey, they only have grey with blue", Sydney growls, "I give up". You drop the brush into the water jug. "You want me to come down? Look through it?", you ask her softly. You've been away from the restaurant ever since the fire. Well, not fully away considering that Sydney had turned to your daily reporter, but still. You hadn't put your foot down on that property. "I... You're busy. I don't want to bother you", she dragged out. "I'll be down in a bit. Hold the front line till then, Syd", you told her before hanging up.

It felt almost like a flashback as you made your way down to the restaurant. Flashbacks of your heading there with Carmy right after the funeral. The times you ran up and down the street for nearby deliveries. The times you stood outside with him, just holding his hands and breathing. The times you smoked outside trying to fight your own overwhelming emotions. You never hated the concept of the restaurant. Quite the opposite; it was an interesting little bubble. You valued Carmy's love for food, even if it wasn't your own. Well, a lie. You learned to love food from him.

"Okay, hold it like this", he said, standing right behind you and guiding your hands. Showing you how to cut properly. "Don't use the tips of your fingers to hold", he said, carefully moving your fingers to a proper position. "And then you do that fast shit? Chop, chop, chop", Carmy lets out a low laugh at your impression. Turning to kiss the side of your head, "Maybe no chop, chop just yet. Get used to cutting veggies like this first. The speed of it will come with practice". You made a sad face before saying, "You do it then; it's captivating", you handed Carmen the knife, resting your face in your hands as you watched him do his thing with a light smirk on his face.

Carmen was feeling his anxiety beating right into his ribcage. The people around him were too loud. Too demanding. He felt like the sounds around him were slowly suffocating him. Ruthlessly dunking his head under the water. Keeping him under even as his lungs ran out of oxygen. All he heard was Carmy this and Carmy that. It felt like one of those torture techniques where your libs were tight to different horses, each pulling you to all four different sides. Carmen didn't have answers to the questions people were demanding. He simply didn't know, and now...

"What's all the shouting for?", and that's all it takes. It feels as if everything around him dies down. His lungs now easily welcomed the air around him. Mind slowing down. He lets out a deep sigh as his eyes fall over your frame. Hair up in a messy bun, the one that he loved so much, with loose pieces framing your face. You have one of Carmy's old shirts on. There's a paint stain on it, and for some reason, that makes him smile a little. His salvation. His love. His home.

"My girl", Tina rushes forward, wrapping you up in a tight embrace. "It's been weeks; let me look at you", she cups your face, looking you all over. You can't help but smile at her. Without a doubt, you missed her presence during your weeks away. "You look pale as paper", she says, shaking her head. "I'll make you my mama's soup. I will get you back on your feet", At this point, you're almost convinced that her eyes will not leave you, no matter where you go. "It's not necessarily, Ti", you move to squeeze her hands, but she only huffs, "It's a must, Mi Nino. With a man like that you have to run around", she scoffed Carmy's way, but he only clenched his jaw. Choosing to stay silent. "I'll steal Carmen for a moment and then be out to help", you glance at Sydney reassuringly, watching as her hands full of plates sag at her sides, but you don't let yourself think about it much as you step forward, brushing your fingers against Carmen's wrist before dragging him towards the office.

"You're okay?", you breathed out once the door closed behind you two. It was silent for a moment. Just Carmen's irregular breathing. Your fingers were still intertwined with his, and from the grip Carmy had on them, you knew he had no intention of letting go. "It's just... I just... don't know shit", his voice was barely a whisper. You nod. "Talk to me about it", you mutter. His eyes find you. Talk. Such an easy thing, right? Not to your two lately. But you've both been trying. Trying to not only listen but also hear. See without being asked to. "Yeah, I think I can do that", he says, nodding his head. You brush your fingers through his messy hair, nodding alongside him.

When you emerge from the office, it's a solid hour later. You have sketches in your hands. The idea of the restaurant. Visuals for plating and a whole Pinterest board just for the restaurant vibe itself. Sydney is sitting by the table, her head resting on the surface. A lot had changed while you were away. The place had been closed. At least three walls were missing. There was a mold issue. But mole issues no more... You'll get to that eventually.

"Right, so he wants a classy, sophisticated look. Something that would be good for plating different dishes in", you plop your sketchbook to the table. Reaching for the plate closest to you. "And he couldn't just tell me that?", Sydney huffed, "How do you meet his brain waves?" You let out a chuckle. Oddly enough, you had learned to read Carmy's mind as if it was a book. "So what did he say no to?", you asked her once more. "Amm, let me see. Fucking everything", Sydney gives you a fake smile, and you bit your lip, suppressing a laugh.

With your phone on the side, the mood board opened, you glance from the plaits to the visuals. Quickly making a yes and no line. Sorting everything into different plating arrangements. Mixing pricier pieces with more affordable ones. Pulling up a color palette for different napkin options. Once you were satisfied, you drew your eyes back to Sydney, who stood there with her mouth slightly open. "That's some dark magic shit", she breathed out. "Be careful; it might turn you into a frog", you shimmy your fingers in front of her face before pulling her closer. "This is... This is perfect", her eyes scanned the table in front of her. "Get everyone to vote for what they like best", you suggest; "Carmy will like this", you point to the third option. The contrasting plate colors and clean-edged dishes were something that no doubt would bring him back to Michelin-class places.

You slipped outside for a quick smoke. Enjoying the little breeze of the evening. Needing a little moment to yourself. You breathed out the smoke carelessly before realizing that you were not alone. "Oh, sorry", you quickly chase the cloud away, adding, "You're okay?". The greenish-pale face was clear evidence of nausea. "Just... It's really warm inside", you only nodded in agreement. And then the silence falls, but the insane kind. The one that you know holds a lot of unsaid feelings. You try to ignore it but fail miserably, "Just say what's on your mind, Natalie".

The woman shakes her head. "I feel guilty", she admits, about the whole Claire situation". That name itself sends a shiver down your back. "Don't waste your breath on it; Richie already told me everything", you take another drag from your cigarette but blow out a smoke away from Nat, not wanting to make her feel any sicker. "I never had a girl friend in the family. Boys had been shit with ladies", she breathed out. "But then you came, and there were so many emotions, and I didn't know you, and maybe I got jealous", you turned to look at her once her words died down. "So... you decided to break me and Carmy apart because you were jealous?", you ask her. "Wow, this family is truly insane", you breathed out, shaking your head.

"I just needed someone familiar; we all needed someone familiar,", Natalie said, but you only shook your head. "That's very hypocritical of you. Carmy already knew me very well, may I add. You could have gotten to know me too". She falls silent for a moment. "Did Richie tell you about the letter?", she asked, not meeting your eyes. "What letter?", you breathed out. Nat nods her head as if reassuring herself before saying, "Michael wrote a letter. It didn't say anything about me and Richie besides the general love you all", she said, "But he mentioned Carmy so many times, and...", her voice died down. She looked like a frozen statue for a moment. "Your name was there too. Mikey felt like an ass that he won't get to meet Carmen's future wife. Won't get to tell you embarrassing stories. Won't hold your kids", those words make your own eyes sting. Breath hitching in your throat. You were not sure of what to say.

"I'm pregnant, you know, and he didn't say anything about my kids", she said through gritted teeth. She moved to wipe her tears away quickly. "Oh, Natalie", you said, dropping the cigarette to the side before stepping closer to her. "It was so fucking petty, and I've been feeling so guilty, but I just wanted something to finally be about me", she crocked out as more tears came rushing down her cheeks. You quickly embraced her, bringing her hiccuping body closer to your chest.

"I've never wanted to...", she cried, but you shook your head. "I was never here to take your space and take your brothers away from you. They both love you a lot, believe me", you reassured her. "You stood up for Carmy at the funeral. No one had been so direct with our mother... I just wanted", she whispered, and all you could do was nod because you knew very well what she wanted. Something that you too had been wanting for so long. Someone who could protect her. To always have her back. To turn into a shield against the harsh world around her. That's what Luca was to you. That's what you were to Carmen. "I'm so sorry", she pulled away slightly, looking into your eyes. "I know, Nat, and I forgive you", you muttered, brushing your sleeve over her damp cheeks, "Now come on, you'll get a cold here, and we need to get you something to drink".

Everyone had eventually gone home. But not before eating the soup that Tina had made while sitting on cardboard boxes together. Only now did you realize how much you had missed this in some way. The little gathering after the day. Something warming to look forward to. Sydney put Marcus on the phone, and to see his beaming face was one of the most rewarding things. You knew you had Luca to thank for that. For bringing back the passion and excitement that used to bubble in Marcus. Richie had pulled into a little side hug before he too stepped out of the place. "I'm glad to see you back", he muttered. You didn't say anything; you just squeezed his hand in return.

"What are you doing here?", Carmy's voice brought you back to the room. You had slipped away to look at the wall facing the entrance. A big white wall that was staring right at you. "Just looking", you muttered. Carmen sat down beside you, following your gaze. He didn't say anything for a while. The silence felt like a warm blanket. "You should paint this wall, or we could hand one of your paintings", Carmy said, and you quickly turned to face him. "That's the main wall", you breathed out. "Exactly why it should be painted by you. If you want to, of course", Carmen stated firmly.

He gazed at you, catching your eyes already on him. "You were thinking about it yourself, weren't you?", Carmen asked, knowing the answer right away when your checks went pink. "I was...but with everything", you breathed out, "It's weird because I love you so much, but I still feel like there are so many things that we need to rebuild".

Carmen reached for your hand, lifting it to his lips before kissing your delicate skin a couple of times. "There's no rush", he breathed out, turning the ring on your finger, "I know where I want to get to. I know what the final destination looks like". You crook your head to the side. Reaching up to brush your fingers through his hair. "Do you want to share?", you ask shyly. Carmy pulls you closer, wrapping his arms around your waist. "It's nothing complicated. You and me. That's all I need", he breathes out, his eyes darting from your eyes to your lips. You reached up, brushing your fingers across Carmy's cheek, and he instantly leaned into your touch. "I think I like that kind of future", you breathed out. His big blue eyes seize you once more. And there's a shy smile on his face. "You do?", he asks, and you nod your head. You run your thumb over his lips a couple of times, and then he's brushing his lips against your own, and it feels like the first time all over again. The same heat rushes to your cheeks. And it's nothing but slow love that you can promise each other now. Patient love that grows alongside you both. One that doesn't put labels. Just promises to keep you both warm. All you need to do is to promise to hold onto one another.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

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[steppin-on-the-last-train]

Happy Xmas (War Is Over)

Natasha Romanoff x Taskmaster!Reader

Summary: Settling down within S.H.I.E.L.D hasn't been easy, but Christmastime is here, and Clint Barton extends an invitation that seems too good to be true. You follow him to his farmhouse where you're met with a few surprises. With Natalia by your side, you try to accept your new life in America, and maybe find some holiday spirit along the way.

Foreword: Happy Holidays everyone! This is a beast of a fic (14.5k words) so strap in. It's also very much an original character just written in second person, but I hope you enjoy.

You sat slouched on a sofa in the common room of SHIELD headquarter’s residential wing. You weren’t sure why the designers had felt the need to include this room. Spies weren’t well known for their extroverted nature. But the holidays had left the area quiet, rather the entire building seemed to have wound down with the slowing nature of the cold and snow outside. You found the space to be useful when you became sick of staring at the same four blank walls of your standard issue apartment. Having recently defected from Russian ranks you and Natalia weren’t allowed to leave campus without an escort, which left you exactly three places to spend downtime. Your room, Natalia’s room–which looked exactly like yours save for a book Barton had given her–or the common area. 

The two of you were working on the latest mission report. Well, you were supposed to be working on the write-up, but the end of year evaluations had been released and yours begged to be raked over. So Natalia worked on hers, fingers diligently tapping away at the keys. She was sitting sideways along the couch, legs lounged over your lap and back to the armrest. You didn’t know how she found the position comfortable. You narrowed your eyes at your computer screen and the unkind words it harbored. “Do you think I am uncooperative and have a tendency to disobey the orders of superiors?” You asked the redhead.

She looked up from her laptop, eyes searching your profile. “Where is this coming from?”

“The end of year assessments,” you frowned. “They are out.” 

“I thought we were working on the reports for the Minsk mission.” She raised a reprimanding eyebrow. 

“I was,” you said, dragging out the second word ever so slightly. “But they are just so tedious now. Why do they need to know the amount of bullets I used? I miss when all we had to do was take a photo of the dead guy for proof of accomplishment.” Natalia nudged your ribs with her foot. “Ow,” you complained.

“We do this because it’s the normal thing to do. Because what we do in the field is necessary, but the violence has to be justified so we can continue doing our jobs.” She tucked a strand of hair that had escaped from her braid behind her ear. “We’re with the good guys now,” she reminded gently. “The world may still be brutal, but we don’t have to be anymore.”

“So we count the bullets,” you concluded.

“So we count the bullets,” she stated. A moment of silence passed, only the sound of Natalia resuming her typing filling the air. That was something you were still getting used to. Silence always preceded something terrible, the inhale before you faced hell on earth. “You are uncooperative.”

“What?” You asked, turning to face her indifferent expression.

“Your question from earlier. I’m answering it.”

“You too?” You shook your head. “You are supposed to take my side, not Fury’s.”

“You are the person who let themselves get captured by the enemy after you heard they’d gotten to me. And,” she paused, “if you finished that report you’d get to the part where you chose not to listen to Agent Riley.”

“I had it handled,” you said, reaching for your coffee cup on the side table.”That man thinks he knows what is better just because he has fifteen years on me. I think he is too cautious. That is why the Americans are leagues behind us in intelligence. They do not have the guts to do what needs to be done.”

“We are Americans now,” she reminded. You wrinkled your nose. “I mean for all intents and purposes, you get that.” She put her laptop on the coffee table and sidled next to you. You could feel her warmth bleed into you where your bodies met. Her knees pressed into your legs, her shoulders turned into your chest. “You can do it, I know you can,” she whispered, taking your hand.

“Do what?” You asked dubiously. 

“Beat them. Unlearn what they taught us. You just have to make an effort.” She put a hand on your cheek, fingertips caressing the side of your face. You almost swore she wanted you to kiss her. You swallowed down nothing but a bubble of air and desire. Not today.

You looked at her, gaze narrowing. “I am here, am I not?” Two large windows allowed the morning light to stream in behind Natasha and wash her in a fresh aura. The blue sky shined bright as fat snowflakes whirled down to meet the pavement of the U.S. capital. Far below, pedestrians hustled from building to building, jackets pulled tight against the cold. Your heart began to pound when you thought about calling this place home. Everything was just so wrong. “I think fighting the urge to run is about all I can manage right now. I believed in the cause, at least I think I did. Turning my back on the Red Room, on him any faster and I think I might break.”

“I know, and I see you. But you have to show them that,” she said, tapping the now black computer screen.

“Like you do? Do not tell me you actually trust anyone here.”

“I don’t,” she said carefully, as if there might exist an exception. “But you have to cooperate, to let someone else take the reins for now.”

“I do not know if I can.” You bit your lip and traced the room with your eyes. The clean, modern furniture and the off-white walls. You knew you shouldn’t but you missed the familiarity of the old wooden mansion. “I am not like you Talia. I cannot see the good in people.”

“And I’m not asking you to. Do you trust me?” She asked, eyes that reminded you of the dawn of spring boring into yours.

“Always,” you breathed, not missing a beat. “You are the only thing in this world that makes sense to me.”

“Then follow my lead. I’m worried about you. I don’t want you digging a hole you can’t climb out of.”

“Okay, I will try.” You were not sure you meant it. Humanity given too much freedom would eat itself alive. A familiar mantra marched across the back of your mind like the incessant buzz of an insect. Correct and control. Correct and control. Correct and control. Correct–

A noise from down the hall caught your attention. Quick footsteps heading your way echoed into the room. You looked at Natalia. The two of you had thought everyone else had left the building for the holidays. 

A frazzled Clint Barton walked into the room, looking about to take off in a full sprint. He wore faded blue jeans and a flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled halfway up his forearms. A duffel bag hung over his shoulder, storing a fair amount of his belongings if you had to guess. He glanced in your direction, but refused to slow his stride. You watched him go, when suddenly he dug his heel into the ground and spun around.

“What are you guys doing here?” He asked as if just now processing your presence. 

“Working,” Natalia answered. You liked Barton well enough and there was no question that you owed him an unpayable debt for sparing Natalia’s life. He looked unassuming, quick to smile and kept a short crop of hair as blonde as a field of wheat. You weren’t quite on casual speaking terms though, not because he bothered you, no. It’s just you weren’t keen to talk to anyone except the girl still halfway sprawled across you. 

He furrowed his brow and adjusted the strap across his shoulder. “It’s Christmas Eve,” he stated plainly, as if that in itself was explanation enough. 

“It is,” Natalia agreed. 

“Well you can’t sit in here all day.” He made a sweeping gesture about the room and all of its bareness and almost surgical detachment. His gaze lingered on you for a moment, silent surprise weaving its way across his face. Feeling off put, you fixed your posture, spine straightening and causing Natasha to slide away. You had yet to encounter him outside of a professional setting, but here you sat wedged into the couch and rather at ease. You wore sweats, albeit SHIELD issue, but still something you’d normally not be caught around in.

“And why is that?” Natalia asked, tone laced with faux confusion. She blinked at Barton, eyes doe-wide.

He shifted his stance and rubbed the back of his neck. “You’re really going to make me say it?” He waited, looking at Natalia indignantly. “It’s sad. You can’t stay at work during Christmas.”

“What would you suggest we do?” She asked, still playing her one-sided game. Bemusing to you, but not so much to the Hawkeye.

“I don’t know. Go home? That’s what I’m doing.” Home, you thought. If you ran back to the place you still called home, SHIELD would call for your head. Even still, the house beckoned out to you in your dreams; not warm, never safe, but structured and oh so familiar. Come home my child, a gruff voice compelled. Come and take your rightful place as my sword and shield. 

Something behind Natasha’s eyes flickered for a moment before disappearing behind a wall of apathy. “There’s not exactly a home for me to go back to.”

“Oh. That’s right. Erm,” Barton stammered. “I’m sorry. Sometimes I forget.”

“Forget that I’m an outsider?”

“That’s one way to put it I suppose. I mean, you’re one of us now, right? We all come from different places so in a way we’re all outsiders. Most of us have pasts we’d rather forget. You don’t do the kind of thing we do because you grew up with two loving parents,” he said.

Natalia tilted her head, hair brushing against your neck. “And where did you come from?”

He smiled, one side of his mouth pulled slightly higher than the other. “Nice try Romanoff. Put a couple of beers in me first and you might have better luck.”

“Oh that’s right, I forgot. Fury found you wandering around the sewers,” she teased. You didn’t know who she did it. How she joked and spoke so freely. How she saw a friend and ally where you saw a threat and a future enemy.

“Ha ha,” he said dryly, lips still curled in a smile. “You’re actually not too far off.” He waited before saying more, eyes flicking to you as they often did when the three of you gathered together. Patiently offering a chance for you to join the conversation, but never calling you out. You were running out of excuses to mistrust the man. “Even still, you guys ought to get out of here. Drive to New York or something. They put up a giant tree in Times Square. I’ve never seen it in person, but,” he raised an arm for emphasis. “Huge.”

This time Natalia’s expression fell for long enough even Barton picked up on it. She turned away from him and stared down at her hands. “I’d love to see that,” she murmured. “We can’t leave though. Not yet. Not without an escort from an authorized superior.” Technically there was nothing stopping you from leaving the building. You’d picked up the nasty habit of prowling the streets in the dead hours of the morning after a nightmare left your hands shaky and your heart clawing its panicked way up your throat. Natalia however had not made one move even remotely close to toeing SHIELD’s strict line. A fact made clear when she’d caught you sneaking back in as the sun rose one morning. You’d promised not to do it again with an overwrought frown on your face. You went out again the very next night and left a mugger to bleed out in an alleyway.

“Oh, that’s right.” It was Barton’s turn to look away. “You know what?” He asked, lifting his chin and pulling out a cell phone. He let the duffle bag down from his shoulder and onto the ground, putting the phone to his ear. Natalia looked at you and you shrugged. She knew him better than you anyway.

“Hey honey,” he said, not bothering to turn away or lower his voice. You didn’t know he had a girlfriend. Between the way you had only ever seen him consume pizza and his obsession with trying to make the most difficult shots possible on missions you had assumed he was single. “I’ve got a pair of stragglers here at the office.” He paused, sucking on his teeth for a moment. “I know, I know I was just about to get on the road I promise. I’ll still be home by five. No, I’ll be careful, I won’t get a speeding ticket this time.” He adjusted the phone and flicked his gaze in your direction. “Yeah, Laura, it’s them. You know me. They don’t have anywhere to go and I thought.” He paused. Slowly, a dopey grin curled onto his face. “Yeah, I do. You know I wouldn’t suggest it if I didn’t.” A final pause. “Okay. I’ll see you later. Love you.” He stuffed the phone back in his pocket and looked up with new excitement sparkling in his eyes. “Have you guys ever been to Iowa?”

Natalia shook her head. “No. I’ve got a soft spot for the Midwest though.”

“Well, what are you waiting for? Go pack for a few days. Laura’s going to kill me if I’m another minute late,” he said, hoisting the bag over his shoulder. 

Natalia’s eyes went wide and she opened her mouth, speechless. Even you were taken aback. Was Barton really inviting you to his home? Certainly he didn’t trust you yet. You hadn’t even been at SHIELD for a year, the first six months of which you spent firmly locked in a cell. Yet there he stood, hands in his pockets and waiting for you to move your ass and follow him out. “I didn’t,” Natalia started. “When I said we couldn’t leave I wasn’t asking for you–”

“Nope. Don’t do that. I want to. You guys are never going to be comfortable here if you’re not extended some freedom. Trust me, I know.” You watched the other man with suspicion, waiting for the trap to spring. The SHIELD agent who had spared Natalia’s life when he had explicit orders to put an arrow through her heart. The American who believed in the good in people and making the world a less gruesome place in the small way he could. The person who extended a hand to others in a time of crisis. “I used to spend Christmas alone and cold without a home. Then I got Laura and I couldn’t be happier. But it can get lonely just the two of us out there. If you really would rather stay here I won’t force you to come,” he said matter-of-factly. “But I would really appreciate the company, and I know Laura would love to meet the two of you.”

Natalia shifted, putting one foot on the floor. She looked at you and you knew she wanted to go, but wouldn’t if you said no. But oh, you would do anything for her. Subtly you nodded. You didn’t care how much you were struggling, you’d pull yourself together for the weekend. “We’re in.”

You pushed yourself off the couch and went back to your room to pack what little you had. All of your clothes were plain which you didn’t mind, but something about knowing they were SHIELD issue left you feeling claustrophobic. You gripped a black dress shirt in your hand a little tighter than you needed to. To you it screamed, you are not free. We own you now. You threw your toothbrush and toothpaste in alongside the clothes before stopping at the bedside table. Carefully you pulled open the drawer and snagged a little necklace from inside. Tucking it into a side pocket you jogged out to find Natalia and Barton waiting in the lobby.

Barton’s truck was nowhere near extravagant, but it held a sort of coziness that only came from years of ownership. Natasha sat in the passenger seat while you took the back, wincing when you found the lack of legroom. The interior smelled of old air freshener, dirt, and worn leather. “Strap in,” he said. “We’ve got a long ride ahead of us.”

Barton tuned the radio to play Christmas music and introduced you to his atrocious singing as he belted along to ‘Santa Claus is Comin’ to Town’. As you left the thick jungle of Washington D.C. and moved west across Virginia the city whipped away as the sun traveled across the sky. When you reached the interstate proper and were well away from the prying eyes of the urban center you finally allowed yourself to relax a little. Natalia began to hum along to a new song, a small smile on her face. Barton turned the volume up a notch and you leaned your head against the cool window pane, eyes tracking the snow covered countryside. 

At a gas station in Ohio Natalia asked to switch seats with you. She curled up in the back using a sweatshirt as a pillow and closed her eyes, pretending to sleep. You checked the rearview every few minutes and eventually she had fallen asleep for real, lips parted slightly and breathing slowing down. 

Barton had given up on his singing endeavor and had reduced himself to whistling and tapping the steering wheel to the beat of the radio. As you passed a sign welcoming you to Indiana he spoke up. “Okay, truth time,” he said, stealing a concerned glance at you before staring back at the two lane road before him. The truck's wheels ate up yards of the sun bleached asphalt. “Can I be honest with you?”

“Yes,” you said.

“Don’t take this the wrong way but you’re not gonna kill me in my sleep tonight, right?” He asked, trying his best to clear the nerves from his voice.

“No. I like you, Barton. And even if I did not I owe you a great debt,” you said. 

A crease formed on his brow. “A debt?”

You looked back at the woman sleeping soundly in the back of the truck. Her feet were tucked up on the seat, head laying on a sweatshirt stuffed in between the window and the headrest. You thought it might have been the most at peace you’ve ever seen her. “Yeah,” you breathed. “For giving her a better life.” One that I never could, you thought.

“I didn’t do it looking for any favors. Not from her, and certainly not from you or Fury,” he insisted. “Fury was pissed of course. He knew who I was when he hired me, but I still think he underestimated my loyalty to my gut. And you,” he said, nodding in your direction. “You were a wildcard no one saw coming.”

“Good or bad?” You asked, already sure of the answer.

“To be honest, I’m not sure yet. I think that’s still up to you,” he said.

You held a groan back. Moral dilemmas made your head ache. You’d wanted a straight answer. Tell me how to be good. “What do you mean?”

 He ran a hand through his hair, spiking it up in three different ways. “Well, you’re good out in the field. Like scary good, and I know you’ll watch my back. That’s the most important thing,” he said. “But then we get back and I see you pacing around the compound like you’re stuck in a cage. I guess I’m just not sure what’s going through your head.”

You clenched and unclenched your fist, overcome with the urge to tell the other man more than you’d told any of the SHIELD shrinks in a year. He felt safe and genuine, but you knew that was an impossibility; you knew people to be horrid pretenders. You opened your mouth anyway, Natalia’s urges for you to try ringing in your ears. “I can follow orders on a mission no problem. Shut off my brain and listen to authority. Protect your team, take the shot, retrieve the files. That is what I was built for,” you sighed, eyeing Barton warily. Waiting for him to snap at you. “But when the job is done, and I have time to sit and think on it…I feel like I have just ripped myself in half.” 

“That’s, well, that’s some intense shit,” he said, tipping his head. “What I can tell you though, with absolute certainty, is that General Dreykov is a bad man. For me, for SHIELD, for her…” Clint said. You knew very well who he was referring to. “There’s no gray area there, man. We’re going to shut him down.”

“I know," you said, short and quick. You knew that's what they all said, but Dreykov had protected you for a long time. He had raised you. He had loved you as his own. You didn't want to see him in a cell, or worse, in a grave. “I cannot get it straight in my head. Everyone has been telling me that working for SHIELD is a step toward being better, to making something of myself. If that is true, then how come the longer I am here the more I feel like I am betraying everything that makes me me?” You knew why. Something inside you was broken and twisted beyond repair. It made you see the world backward. Everyone around you could smell the festering rot of the mangled heart inside your chest. They just needed an excuse to put you down for good.

“Well, you are just about the most Russian person I’ve ever met,” he said. You tried your very best not to glare at him when he looked over. “Before about five minutes ago the only sentences I’d ever heard you speak were two word acknowledgements in the field. And the accent. You’re playing it up, right?”

“Maybe a little.” You were more than capable of fixing it and putting on an American one, but you felt entitled to keep this little part of yourself. To remind yourself and everyone else where you came from. The pressure to conform was a constant torrent but you refused to let them win, for better or for worse.

“As for actual advice…I would say don’t look at it from a good versus bad perspective. In this field, none of us are really good. Not even at SHIELD. I don’t care what some of those righteous assholes think. Forget what anyone told you before and what anyone tells you now,” he said, drumming his fingers along the steering wheel. “Take a step back and compare the before and the now. How did it make you feel?” He asked, stressing the you. “What cause do you believe in? Tough thing is there’s not a right and a wrong answer. Took me a hell of a long time to figure out what I thought about it all. I used to operate strictly outside of the law and now I’m a fed,” he said, shrugging. “Just know I’m rooting for you.”

“And if I come to a conclusion you do not agree with?”

“I’ll make sure to give you a headstart,” he said, winking and throwing you a playful smirk.

“Ah, I am grateful Barton,” you said, cracking a smile. It felt good, like feeling the sun on your face after being inside for a long time. You reveled in the feeling while it lasted.

“No. No more of that Barton stuff. It’s Clint.” He said, shaking his head. “Unless we’re on a mission. Then it’s Hawkeye.”

“The infamous Hawkeye. Tell me, Clint. Where do you get a name like that?” You could tell he was fond of the alias.

“Would you believe me if I told you it’s from the circus?”

A million questions crowded your mind. You looked over, mouth hanging open. You didn’t know much about circuses. They had shown you all a cartoon once about an elephant that had giant ears and could fly. It led the other circus animals in a rebellion against the human handlers. In the end the ringmaster cut its ears off and strung them up as a lesson against exceptionalism. “You were in the circus?” You asked.

“Even better,” he answered. “I was raised up in one.”

“Did you have elephants?”

“No,” he scoffed, chuckling. “We were classier than that. All acrobats and good old fashioned theatrics. I used to sharpshoot. Struck apples off of people’s heads. That sort of thing. Although when I wasn’t on stage I was running through the audience, taking wallets out of pockets.”

You squinted your eyes at him. “Baby Barton raising hell. I can see it. And it would explain the mess in here.” You scuffed your shoe on the floor, stirring up bits of dirt and dried mud. Items crowded the backseat next to Natalia. A winter coat, a pair of sneakers, a hunting knife, handle worn from use. The cupholders were stuffed with old receipts and loose change, and something rattled in the glove box everytime the truck took a left turn. 

“It’s messy in here?” He asked, glancing about the cabin. “I don’t think it’s too bad.”

“You are funny.”

“No, I'm being completely serious. Doesn’t everyone’s car kinda look like this?” His bewilderment would be slightly endearing if you weren’t such a neat freak.

“No, not really. I will help you clean over the holiday,” you said, leaving no room for protest. “I cannot stand the ride back like this.”

“If you insist. Just don’t throw anything out without running it by me. I promise everything in here is important.”

“Whatever you say,” you said, eyeing a stack of coffee cups wedged in the door.

“Can I ask something? I mean, I don’t want to overstep.” You were learning Clint did not do well with silence. 

“Go ahead.”

“What’s the deal with you and Natasha? Are you dating? It’s been killing me trying to figure the two of you out.”

“No, uh, we are not,” you stuttered. “We are friends.” Even that label seemed to hold too much weight. You weren’t supposed to have friends. And to befriend one of the Widows no less. You were above them, primed to not only serve the Red Room, but to be the embodiment of its crusade. Dreykov’s right hand. The Taskmaster. 

Clint had the nerve to scoff. “I’ve seen you just about butcher an entire compound of enemy combatants without batting an eye. And you can never ever tell Fury this but you intimidate the other agents more than he does.” He took one hand off the wheel and stretched it out, flexing his fingers. “And as far as I can tell the only person who can get you to listen to anyone but yourself…” He pointedly stared at the rearview mirror. “I didn’t even recognize you earlier back at SHIELD. You looked so, unagitated. Like you finally managed to dislodge that stick up your ass.”

“Ha, ha,” you laughed dryly. “You know, I am going to find something to shove up your ass.”

“You were letting her lay on you like a cat. You can’t tell me you guys haven’t slept together.”

You glared at his profile until he got the hint and faced you. “That is none of your business.”

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry I crossed a line,” he said. Your chest twisted with an unfamiliar sensation. One that made its way to your face in not quite a smile, but certainly an expression of gratitude. You bit down hard on the inside of your cheek. Apologies were new for you. 

“It is alright,” you said, vehemence leaving your voice. “It is just complicated. We had,” you hesitated and took a deep breath. “We had more than we should have in, um…before. They tried to keep us apart, make me think she was as heartless as the rest of the world.” You stared out the windshield, not willing to risk eye contact with Barton. A bug came flying at the truck and splattered green guts right in your eyeline. “And for a while I believed them. I hated her. But I was wrong. It is actually the opposite. Natalia is just, she is good. She stupidly stuck by me and dragged my head up from the sand when I was intent on suffocating myself.” 

“I’m no expert, just a guy with a wife and a couple of kids, but that sounds a damn lot like love to me,” he said. 

A choir of sardonic voices roused to action in the forefront of your mind. What do you know of love? You bite the hand that needs you, do you understand? You bite it clean off. A bitter laugh lunged from your throat before you could stop it. “You are wrong. Love is a fantasy to hold over the heads of the masses.”

“Wow.” Clint blinked dramatically, twice. “I didn’t think it was possible, but you just got even more Russian.”

“Fuck off, Hawkeye,” you said, grinning freely. 

 “Seriously though, I’ll never understand what you guys went through. Not in any way that counts, but the fact you made it out together tells me how fucking strong the both of you are.” He flicked his gaze to you. “There’s something there for you to think about too, but you gotta find it on your own.”

But you would rather take a knife to the chest than admit to harboring any sort of four letter words for Natalia. “Wait, you have a kid?” You asked, turning the conversation back on Barton.

“Yeah,” he said, smile reaching up to crinkle the corners of his eyes. “I have two now, if you can believe it. My oldest is Cooper. He’s a little over three. Lila is the baby. They’re why I was a little nervous about bringing you out. My number one priority, before SHIELD, before the mission, before myself are those kids.”

“And you were driving me all this way worried that I would turn on you? That I might hurt your kids?”

“Well, you know. Don’t trust anyone, especially other spies. Especially Russian spies if you’re American. I was fairly sure, but there was a voice in the back of my head asking ‘what if,’ and I had to ask,” he admitted.

You wanted to tell him you’d never hurt a little kid. That he shouldn’t have worried. Except you had, so so many times before. “How do you feel now?” You asked instead.

“A lot better. Glad to know you’re not a robot.” Silence grew as the radio paused in between songs. You laid back against the seat and watched the plains rush by outside. The speakers came back to life and a new sickeningly cheery jingle began to play. “I love this one,” Clint said, turning the volume back up. He hummed with contentment and drummed his fingers on the wheel, looking over at you. “I am going to teach you all about the joy of Christmas music, just you wait.”

“Oh, great,” you remarked wryly. The small grin on your face however betrayed your stark tone. Maybe this place wasn’t so bad after all.

—

The old Chevy fought its way up the snow covered path toward the farmhouse in the middle of the field. White and red lights hung from the roof and wrapped the pillars of the porch in heartwarming hues. A little plastic snowman stood ambassador to the front door, waving a mittened hand and welcoming the incoming entourage. Clint parked a couple dozen yards from the house, grumbling about how he’d have to dig the truck out before he left again. Natalia hopped out, eyes wide as she took in the home. Your breath puffed out in visible clouds, but you hardly felt the cold. You were raised in the deathly Russian winters. 

The front door cracked open, a woman standing silhouetted in the warm light behind her. “Clinton Francis Barton! You better get inside right now,” she said, a wide smile brightening her voice.

“Clinton?” Natalia asked, walking close behind Barton up to the porch.

“Yeah, yeah. Now you know my biggest secret.” He trudged up the stairs, snowflakes dusting his shoulders and hair. Laura met him in the doorway with a kiss. “Sorry we’re a little late,” he said.

“You’re excused this time, but only because you brought guests,” she said. Up close you could see she had big brown eyes and brown hair that fell to her shoulders. The inside of the house beckoned, the haze of meat and pine wafting outside. You dragged your feet along the stairs. You didn’t belong here. “Get inside now, you’re letting all the heat escape.” She patted Barton on the butt as he trod inside, fondness lacing her eyes as she looked after him. Natalia stood at the entryway, not yet stepping up into the house. “I mean you two as well,” Laura insisted, ushering you through the door.

“Daddy!” A little boy came barrelling around a corner, wrapping his arms around Clint’s leg and staring up at him with a toothy grin. The house immediately opened up into the living room, a worn brown couch facing a fireplace and an evergreen tree adorned with ornaments and twinkling lights. To your left a staircase spiraled upward and disappeared to a second floor. You stomped your shoes off on a welcome mat, watching the slush melt away. 

A drumbeat of footsteps pattered your way and suddenly the child was wrapped around your leg, his fingers digging into your calf. Your muscles tensed and you began to lift your leg to shake him off, heart in your throat.

“Coop!” Laura scolded. “I’m so sorry, I don’t know what’s gotten into him. He’s usually pretty shy around strangers.”

But Cooper didn’t listen and you didn’t kick him away. This kid was not a threat. He ogled up at you with wide eyes the same shade as his mother’s and hair somehow blonder than his father’s. “Hi. I’m Cooper,” he said with the grace of someone just learning to speak.

“Hi,” you said, heat rushing to your cheeks at being startled by a three year old. 

“Who are you?” He asked.

“I am a friend of your father’s,” you said, also telling him your name. 

“Looks like you’ve been replaced, Clint,” Laura teased. “Come on, buddy, let’s get up. Daddy’s got to show them upstairs.”

But he only sank down further, sitting firmly on your shoe and jutting his lip in a pout. “Walk with me.”

You looked at Natalia, a tender smile on her face. “It’s alright,” you told Laura. “I can take him upstairs.”

“Are you sure?” She asked. “I can make him get down.” 

“Yeah.” You couldn’t explain the tight feeling in your chest whenever the boy smiled up at you. “Are you ready?” He nodded eagerly and you took a step, following Clint up the stairs. Cooper giggled the entire time, clinging on with little hands.

“I hope you guys are okay with sharing a room. We’ve got Coop and Lila in their own rooms right now. Lila keeps you up at night, doesn’t she buddy?”

He nodded against your knee. “Lila cries a lot.”

“This is great,” Natalia said. “Thank you.” You and her still slept in separate rooms, but at this point you would have been willing to sleep out in the barn if he told you to. You hadn’t realized how crazy you’d been in that SHIELD compound. The wind whipping against your face outside had been like finally breathing deeply after having your head held underwater.

“The door on the end is the master bedroom,” Clint said, pointing left down the hall. “That’s Coop’s room, then there’s the nursery, the bathroom, and finally,” he stopped, opening a door to the right. “Here’s the guest room. I’ll let you guys get settled. Take your time. I’m going to help Laura get the table set.” He knelt down, scooping Cooper up under his arms and lifting him high in the air. The toddler shrieked as Clint settled him on his shoulders and stomped downstairs.

You set your bag down as Natalia moved around the room, running her hand over the nicely made bed. You cleared your throat, nerves and a foreign feeling clashing in your mind. “I can sleep on the floor.” 

She turned to you sharply. “You know I would never ask you to do that.”

“I know. But I am offering.” You walked over to the window, pushing the curtain open and peering outside. You couldn’t see much of anything, even with your enhanced eyesight. Even still, the countryside was a refreshing landscape after being firmly locked in the city. But the wilderness sheltered different threats. The red dot of a laser sight burned your retinas, and glowing yellow eyes stared blankly back at you. 

Natalia pulled your hand into hers, lacing your fingers together. “We’re okay here,” she mumbled into your shoulder as if reading your mind. 

“Do you really believe that?”

“I do,” she said, coming to stand in front of you. You wrapped your arms around her and rested your chin on top of her head, imagining you could shield her from all harm this way. “Listen.”

You strained your ears, searching for alarming sounds. The wind outside stirred quietly, enough to flurry the falling snow, but not so aggressive as to rap the window pane. Beyond that there was only quiet. No footsteps prowling around the back of the house. No click of a rifle’s safety being switched off. “I do not hear anything,” you said.

“You’re listening for the wrong things,” she said.

You frowned, glancing around the quiet room. Through the closed door the lazy tune of an American Christmas song made its way to your ears. You recognized the singer. Elvis Presley. The King of Rock and Roll. Laughter charged the music with a warm undercurrent. The infectious snicker that belonged to Barton mixed with the high-pitched giggle of his son to create a different kind of melody. You dropped your shoulders and let all of the air out of your lungs. Natalia pulled you closer until her spine pressed flush into your front. Her hands felt like ice, but you didn’t mind. You had always run hot. 

“Barton asked me if we were a couple on the ride up,” you said.

“Oh yeah? And what did you say?” She asked, watching the snow swirl in arcs outside. The wind rushed down, only for the next gust to excite the flakes into the navy sky again. 

“I told him it was complicated. And that we are friends.”

“And what if we made it less complicated?”

You pulled away to tug off your sweatshirt, feeling feverishly warm. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, what if we gave it a shot? We can call it what we want, we don’t have to call it anything at all. You could stay in my room some nights, or I could stay in yours. Maybe I’d let you kiss me,” she said, scrunching her nose and lifting one eyebrow. 

You laid the shirt on the bed, folding it into a tight little rectangle. The offer dangled in the vanilla scented air, taunting you. There must be a candle burning downstairs. You wanted so badly to say yes. To give yourself over to Natalia completely. Somewhere in between your heart and your throat the words got caught. A dark entity snagged what you wanted to say in its rows of jagged teeth and ripped it to shreds. “I think our friendship works,” you said. 

“Yeah, you’re right,” she sighed. “I was being selfish.”

“No, you were not. You could never be selfish. I am sorry,” you said, kneeling beside your bag and placing the sweatshirt inside. You would slit your own throat if Natalia Romonava asked you to. How cruel was it that you couldn’t tell her you cared? 

She crossed the softly lit bedroom, coming to rest by the door where you hung your head in defeat. “There’s nothing you need to be sorry for,” she said. Her voice washed over you and carried away some of the pain in your chest like the sea’s cool tide. Her fingers combed through the short hairs at the base of your neck. You leaned into her, resting your forehead on her leg. She smelled of the air after a storm and the beginnings of a fresh wound. “Come on. Let’s get downstairs before they put out a search warrant.”

You pushed yourself from the ground, an all too familiar action, and followed her into the greater expanse of the house. 

“There you are,” Clint greeted, pulling cups out of a cabinet. “Just in time.”

“Hi,” Laura smiled, crossing the kitchen and offering a hand. “I didn’t properly introduce myself before. I’m Laura.”

“Natasha,” Natalia said, shaking the woman’s hand.

“Cooper, come wash your hands!” Clint called. The boy ran in from the living room, making a beeline for the sink.

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Barton,” you said, clasping her hand. Her palm held faded callouses. 

“Oh, please. It’s Laura. You come to my house, you call me Laura. Gosh, Mrs. Barton makes me feel old,” she said, smiling good-naturedly. “You two make me feel old. How old are you?”

“Twenty one,” Natalia answered. 

“Oh, wow,” she blinked widely. “Clint, you’ve got a run for your money. You might have to retire soon.”

“Tell me about it,” he said. “You should try sparring with Nat, hon. I’ve never been more sore in my life.” Clint scooped Cooper up and set him at the table. “Alright buddy hang tight, I’m gonna go grab your sister.”

“How are you guys doing at SHIELD? Fury not giving you too much grief I hope,” Laura said, grabbing a couple of plates and handing them over.

“You know Fury?” Natalia asked, recalculating the other woman.

“Oh, yeah. I knew Fury before he was such a hotshot. I knew him when he was still an ambitious agent gunning for the reins.” She scooped a bunch of mac and cheese into a bowl and carried it around to Cooper. “Feels like yesterday I was in the field though.”

“You were a SHIELD agent?” You asked, interest peaked. 

“Yep. Had a fancy codename too. People used to call me the Mockingbird.” The three of you settled at the table, plates filled with turkey and potatoes and sauteed green beans. “Don’t tell Clint I told you this but when he joined he chased after me for months before I’d even look in his direction. Don’t let him ever fool you, he’s always been a big dork.”

“Don’t tell Clint what now?” He asked, walking in with a baby in his arms. She couldn’t have been more than six months old. Natalia’s eyes went wide, her mouth parted open. She looked as if she were about to spring from her chair. You knew she had a soft spot for kids, but didn’t know it ran this deep. You looked from her to the baby and back again, head tilting. She’d never looked that excited to see you.

“Just sharing your most embarrassing moments,” Laura said. 

“Great.” He took a seat, cradling the baby in one hand and picking a fork up in the other. He pointed the utensil across the table at you and Natalia. “Just remember I’m still your superior,” he said. 

“The food is great, Laura,” you said in between bites. You forced yourself to slow down. You guessed you hadn’t realized how hungry you were until you sat down. SHIELD cafeteria food was certainly less than subpar. 

“Thank you. Clint, you better take notes from this one. The kid has better manners than you.”

“I’ll have you know that you chose to marry me,” he retorted.

“That I did,” she conceded, dipping her head. “And I’ve never had cause to regret it…so far.” 

“So far? Clint asked. “How could you ever say no to this face?” He jutted his bottom lip out and pouted.

Laura shook her head and grinned, almond eyes sparkling. “You are a child. I’m raising three children.” She turned away from her husband. “Anyway, I was asking you two about SHIELD. Clint told me you’ve taken the place by storm.” 

“It’s been good,” Natalia answered carefully. In the face of two senior agents, you had to choose your words carefully, even if one of them was retired from the organization. She donned a coy smile you recognized as one reserved for when she was chasing an objective and dipped her chin, peering up at the couple. “Everyone’s just been so great. We’ve been getting along perfectly, haven’t we?”

You took the signal and nodded in agreement. “I have found SHIELD to be an exceptional establishment.”

“I honestly think Fury would take that as an insult,” Clint said. “There’s no penalty for criticism. There’s a reason we’re spies and not soldiers.”

Natalia tilted her head, listening. You knew she gave the archer’s words considerable weight. “I think the director would agree that it’s considerably better than where we came from,” she said. “Which makes it near perfect in my eyes.”

Your leg bounced underneath the table, on the verge of taking off. To hear Natalia sing the song of American praise grated on your nerves. The worst thing was that she sounded genuine. She liked working under Fury. To you SHIELD was a pit stop on the way to a new life. For the woman who everyone underestimated and no one but you could decipher however, there was no escape plan, no next step. She’d convinced herself this was home.

“I’ll drink to that,” Clint said. “I’m where I am now because of SHIELD. And I wouldn’t trade this for the world.”

Laura practically beamed. “You sweet talker. I love you.” The feeling like you didn’t belong here roiled over you like a nauseating fever. You snapped to attention when you heard your name. “How are you adjusting?” Laura asked, eyes far too sympathetic.

“Fine,” you grimaced. You couldn’t help but think back on the lengths SHIELD had gone to glean information from you and remold you to a proper agent. In the end, they had been weaker than you. You were cast iron forged in the backwoods of Russia. You did not adjust. You did not yield. 

“What does Fury have you working on?” She asked. “I know I can’t have the details anymore. I don’t think I’d want them anyhow, but...He’s getting you guys back out there all right?” 

“Yeah. They call us Strike Team Alpha. We have been working with Agents Coulson and Hill to–,” you cut yourself off. You had been working to track down the Red Room and formulate a strategy to take out Dreykov. You complied enough to be deemed cooperative, but kept vital intelligence to yourself. Even still, time trickled away like sand in an hourglass. They’d have him before long, and you weren’t certain you could stick around to see it through. “We have been busy,” you pivoted. “We work with Clint a lot. Your husband is a good man.” 

“That he is,” she agreed. “But don’t discount yourself either.”

“Do not worry,” you said. “I know exactly what kind of person I am.”

“We all think we know who we are,” Laura said. “But most of the time it’s not as simple as we think. Lives are multi-faceted and it’s impossible to understand every part of ourselves as we should.”

“She’s right, you know,” Clint added. “I never thought I’d work for the government, much less ever be a father. But here I am.” He looked down on the sleeping baby tucked in his arm, running a thumb over her chubby cheek.

Under the table Natalia tugged on your pinky finger, intertwining her finger with yours. She squeezed softly and the action sent a current all the way to your heart. She had a smile on her face when you looked over, cat-green eyes glimmering with hope. “See?” She asked. “We can be whoever we want to be now.”

You nodded, even if it was just to reassure the woman beside you. Without order, without someone’s heels to follow you didn’t know who you were. And the prospect of discovering you weren’t worthy of all you’d been given...well that scared you more than the thought of a bullet carving a neat hole through your brain.

Clint cleared his throat and stood, walking to the counter and grabbing more food. You stared at your now empty plate, stealing a glance back at the countertop with the dishes of food. You stamped down on the flare of desire in your stomach, sitting silently and stacking your hands in your lap. “You can have more,” Laura said gently.

You shook your head quickly. “I am alright.” You were to never take more than what was allotted. 

“I’m serious, we’ll never eat all of this food. Please, take more,” she insisted.

You nodded, slowly getting up and slinking away from the wooden dining table. Natalia picked up the conversation. “So, you don’t work for SHIELD anymore then?”

“No,” Laura said. “I opted out of field work when I got pregnant with Cooper and when we decided to have Lila I took myself out of the game completely. Even being a deskbound spy has a way of taking over your life.” She picked up a napkin and wiped Cooper’s cheesy face off. “At that point I knew I had greater priorities than to SHIELD. Being a parent wouldn’t be everyone’s first choice but it was the right decision for me. We moved out here from the city a little over a year ago.”

“What do you do now?” Natalia asked.

“I’m a counselor for military personnel and veterans,” she said as you sat down again. Your foot caught on one of the legs and the table jumped a few inches.

“Sorry,” you cringed, gingerly pushing it back into place.

Cooper’s eyes went wide and he clapped his hands together with little coordination. “Again.”

“The table is pretty dense,” Laura explained. “We had trouble moving it in here and now Cooper’s made a game out of trying to push it around. Clint won’t touch it though, he’s worried he’ll hurt his back.”

“Ah,” you said, staring down at your lap. You didn’t like people knowing how strong you were. Nothing good had ever come from it. The serum was a fear tactic, a killer’s tool. The doctor’s at SHIELD had been practically drooling with questions when they found out, needles armed and ready behind their backs. “Must be lighter than you remember.”

“I’m done,” Cooper announced, slamming his spoon down. 

“Cooper Barton!” Laura chastised. “What do we say when we’re done?”

The toddler grumbled, pushing his empty bowl away. “May I be excused?”

“Yes you may,” his mother answered.

He jumped from his chair and ran around the table back to the living room. Clint ruffled his thick brown hair as he sped past. “Attaboy,” he saluted.

Laura carried the dishes over to the sink, running the water and filling the basin. You stood abruptly, snapping to attention. “I can take care of it.” You’d been sitting around for too long and letting people work for you. You needed to do something with your hands. She waved you off, not sparing a glance. “Please,” you said, ants crawling beneath your skin.

 She turned to you and something on your face must have given you away. “Okay. You’re not going to hear any argument from me.” 

You gathered up the rest of the plates from the table and scraped the food scraps into the trash. Chore rotations had been part of the routine growing up and the repetitive nature of scrubbing plate after plate calmed you some.

“Let me help,” Clint offered, handing the baby off to Laura and joining you in the kitchen. 

“Why don’t we go out to the den?” Laura offered to Natalia. “Let the boys clean up in here.” She whispered into the redhead’s ear as they left the room. You couldn’t make out the words.

You handed a clean plate to Clint for him to dry. “Thank you,” you said. The kitchen was cozy, all wooden floors and off-white countertops. The fridge stood across from the sink, decorated in crayon drawings and various magnets in the shape of dinosaurs.

“You’re welcome. Laura gets on me all the time for forgetting to clean up anyway. Figured I could earn some points while I’m home.”

“I meant for bringing us here,” you clarified. “It has been, nice.” Nice was a safe word. “You have a nice home. You were right. I think I was–hm, what is the term? Something crazy. Like when you are stuck inside for too long.”

“Stir crazy?”

“Ah yes. I was being stir crazy,” you said. “I am glad to be far away from the compound, from the job, all of it.”

“You were going stir crazy, not being stir crazy,” he said.

“Ah. I do not struggle with languages too much, but the figures of speech are always difficult to follow.”

“I’m glad you’re comfortable here. It’s nice to be able to share this with someone,” he admitted. “Fury is literally the only other person who knows about this part of my life. It’s kind of exhausting walking around pretending it doesn’t exist.”

LIttle footsteps came pounding around the corner and into the kitchen. Cooper crashed into Clint’s leg, tugging on his shirt to get his attention. “Mama said I have to help. Lila is sleeping,” he panted.

“Why don’t you dry this off for me, bud?” Clint handed him a rag and a plastic cup.

You watched the boy as he cleaned the cup, tongue poking out of the side of his mouth. “I will protect your secret, Clint. I know Nata-” You caught yourself before finishing the second half of her name. “Natasha will too.” The sound still felt awkward on your tongue.

“Thank you,” he said, laying a warm hand on your shoulder. The muscles in your back tensed, pinching your shoulder blades together. You inhaled and counted to five. You didn’t pull away. “I’ve made a lot of dumb decisions in my life, and I mean a lot. Taking a chance on the two of you though…that I don’t think I’ll ever regret.”

Part of you preened at the praise, no matter who’s lips it fell from. The other part reared at the fact you responded to someone other than your designated handlers. “You are welcome,” you said.

“Done!” Cooper announced, handing the dry cup back to his father. “Can I go play now?”

“Yeah, sure bud. We’ll be right out.”

You put the last plate away and drained the sink before joining Natalia and Laura in the living room. You froze when you rounded the corner and saw Natalia. She held Lila in her arms, the most tender smile on her face as she watched over the baby. Laura knelt by the fireplace, stoking the logs before shutting the grate. The mantle held little framed photographs of the Barton family and red and green stockings hung over the fire. A Christmas tree stood in the corner, yellow lights shining like halos. A star topped the tree, inches away from scraping the ceiling. Natalia sat on the couch cradling the baby as she played with one of her fingers.

Cooper slid onto the bench at an upright piano, mashing away at the keys. “Not right now, Coop,” Clint said. “You ought to be winding down for bed. We all have to be asleep for when Santa comes, remember?” You blinked at the instrument, starstruck. Longing filled your chest like air in a balloon. 

“Fine,” he whined, but listened and scooted from the bench.

Natalia swiveled her head, careful not to shift and disturb Lila. “Does one of you play?”

“I used to when I was little,” Laura said. “The piano belonged to my grandparents originally. I don’t think I could play much of anything anymore.”

“I can play.” Clint piped up.

“Twinkle Twinkle Little Star does not count, babe.”

“You know who can play?” Natalia spoke up. You imagined the expression on her face, one eyebrow raised and mouth poised in a smirk. 

“Who?” Cooper asked, rounding the couch and sitting on the coffee table. 

“I’ll give you a hint,” she said. “They’re in the room with us right now.”

“Is it me?” He pointed to himself, little eyebrows furrowed as deep as he could make them go.

“Nope,” Natalia answered, voice sing-song sweet.

“Is it you?” He twisted his head to the side and pointed at Natalia. She shook her head and Cooper looked around the room, eyes catching on his mother and father before landing on you. “Your friend,” he said. 

“Yep,” she said. You could hear the smile in her voice. 

“I knew it. I knew it,” he insisted. 

You tore your gaze away from the piano as attention fell onto you. “Oh.” You waved them off. “I would not say I could play. I posed as a pianist in a hotel lobby for a mission once a long time ago. Memorized some music that is all. I am not classically trained.” You crossed your arms to ward off the unease that accompanied so many eyes on you.

“Do you still know it?” Laura asked. 

“Yeah, I do.” Your peculiar memory would never allow you to forget. And you’d never tell a soul, but sitting there at a piano all night long had made you feel alive in a way nothing had before. But that couldn’t be. Musicians were jesters, and you were no fool. 

“We’d love to hear it,” Laura said, picking Cooper up and settling down with him on her lap. “If you’re comfortable. I hate the thought of the piano just turning into decor.”

“Okay,” you said. You were never one to shy away from a task. “I am afraid I do not know any Christmas songs.” 

“That’s all right. I’m sure whatever you know will be beautiful,” Laura encouraged.

Clint stood in the corner, eyes upturned to the ceiling. He perked up, springing into action. “I’ll be right back,” he said, jogging upstairs.

You took a seat on the polished wooden bench, stroking the keys and marveling at the instrument. You warmed up, playing a couple scales and conjuring the music in your mind’s eye. The patterns were as fresh as the day you had played them. The notes from the aged piano were by no means comparable to that of the expensive grand you’d used before, but somehow the music sounded sweeter here. As you struck the opening bars of Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata you craned your neck to find Natalia’s gaze. She smiled at you and you couldn’t help but mirror the expression. Your heart picked up its beating and your head buzzed with a strange feeling. You felt as if you might explode with it. 

You took to the music like you took to fighting, or dancing. You didn’t struggle with movement like other people did. Ever since you could remember you could watch and replicate. Eventually you learned to mimic a fighter’s strategy so that you could predict their next moves. Flay their neck into a gushing fountain before they could touch you. 

Your foot pumped the pedal in time with your left hand and when you closed your eyes you could see the notes weaving into the dark. You liked how the music elicited harmony instead of chaos. Music didn’t scrape the skin from your knuckles or leave you lying on the floor with the world spinning around you. You changed the song, easing into Chopin’s Nocturne in E Flat. 

Clint came marching down the stairs, CD player in one hand and a disk in the other. He stayed quiet for a moment, busying himself with finding an outlet to plug the player into. Finding a natural way to end the song prematurely, you slowed your hands and lightened the force with which you struck the keys. Clint stood near the other end of the couch, doing his best to look patient. 

“Barton?” You asked.

“I told you earlier that I was going to teach you the joy of Christmas music,” he said. “Well, here you go. Now you can play along and really appreciate the music.” He knelt down and pressed the play button. 

An easy tune filled the living room, bathing all in attendance in a sense of peace. Time seemed to slow, and for a moment, you forgot about the world outside of the farmhouse. All that mattered was the family reaching out in embrace, two parents and a little boy. Their smiles shone brighter than the blazing fire in the hearth. You watched the woman settled on the couch, absorbed by the baby in her arms. She looked up at you as you traced the curve of her jaw with your eyes. Natalia’s pupils were wide when she met your gaze, and she caught her bottom lip between her teeth. You looked away first to stare at the piano instead, focusing on the music instead of the way your cheeks warmed in a way that had nothing to do with the temperature.

You caught onto the song as it began to repeat, taking a shallow breath before following along. Just like with anything else music obeyed a pattern. Once you unlocked the way the parts fit together, the rest of the song revealed itself to you. All you had to do was continue the line of code. The next track played, prompting Cooper to sing along. Imperfection had never sounded so flawless. 

The CD turned out song after song and you let yourself get lost in the game. You didn’t recognize any of the pieces, but Christmas music had a distinctive charm to it. Some might call it magical. You sat back for the first thirty seconds of each song, picking out the tempo and key. The notes charged your hands with energy which you poured out into the latter half of the song. Each one was unique, a victorious smile forming on your face when you pulled together the entire arrangement in your head.

When the tracklist ended you took a breath, feeling lighter than you had in a long time. Laura took Lila from Natalia, holding her tight against her shoulder. Her hand, a mother’s hand, rested on the sleeping baby’s back. “I’m going to put her down,” she said, just loud enough to be heard.

“Hey bud.” Clint gently shook Cooper awake from where he’d fallen asleep on the couch against his leg. “It’s time to brush our teeth and go to bed.”

The boy only turned further into Clint’s body, refusing to be stirred. 

Clint stood and picked him up. “I’ll be right back,” he said.

Only after his footsteps had receded upstairs did either one of you move. Natalia pushed herself from the couch and stretched. Her arms extended toward the ceiling with a dancer’s grace. She took a seat next to you on the bench and laid her head on your shoulder. “That was amazing,” she said. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

“That is all you,” you said. “I did not know you were so good with babies.”

“Me neither,” she admitted. “When Laura asked me to hold her I was so nervous at first. I thought I might drop her or pinch her or that I’d make her cry.” She lifted her head, her gaze soft as a lamb’s. You wanted to preserve it so that no one may ever taint it, including from yourself. “But she was okay.”

“That is because you are a good person. They say babies have a sixth sense for that sort of thing. Like dogs.”

“But, I’ve hurt so many people,” she said, voice fragile like a twig in a storm. “I’m afraid…I'm afraid I’ll never be able to redeem myself.”

“No. Do not say that, Natalia. You are the best person I know. The fact you care so much means you are already there.” You huffed a quick exhale. “I think you are the only person who cannot see how big your heart is.”

“They say the holidays are for spending time with the people you love the most,” she whispered, tracing the lines on your palm with her finger.

You stayed quiet.

“I’m glad that I’m here with you,” she said.

Another window, another chance to dive off the deep end. I think I’m in love with you, you thought. The laws of society had been drilled into your head by the Madames and reinforced by what little exposure of the world you’d received. Natalia stood in defiance to all of them. She was a sapling in a field of ash, and refused to be uprooted. She turned to grace like you turned to anger. She was infecting you, and you couldn’t push her away.

Footsteps sounded down the stairs and you shut your previously parted mouth. The words scattered into the recesses of your throat. “Hey guys,” Clint said. “The kids are down and Laura and I still have a lot of Santa’s work to do. You’re more than welcome to stay down here and watch TV or whatever. We’ll be around. Just holler if you need anything.”

“Okay,” Natalia said. “Thank you.” He turned to go. “And Clint. Merry Christmas.” She smiled.

“Merry Christmas,” he said, giving a sharp nod. 

You yawned. Between the food and the warmth and the music, tiredness had snuck up on you. “Let’s go upstairs,” Natalia said.

“Okay.” You left the piano behind and made your way upstairs. You brushed your teeth and splashed water on your face in the hall bathroom. The shower curtain was adorned with colorful flaming monster trucks and a little blue step stool gave height before the sink. Cooper must have primary use of this one. 

Natalia sat on the edge of the mattress in the bedroom, untangling her braid with deft fingers. You stole a pillow and dropped it on the floor on the other side near the door. “What are you doing?” She asked.

“I am going to sleep.” You didn’t meet her eyes.

“Why are you being weird? We’ve slept in the same bed before,” she said.

“That was different,” you insisted.

“How so?” She asked, infuriatingly patient.

You crossed your arms over your chest and rolled your shoulders back, shadows of old handlers and teachers flickering behind your eyes. “Because…because there were lines before. Ones we did not cross.” Emotional ones. “It was survival. You were a warm body.”

A smudge of hurt clouded over Natalia’s bright eyes. She blinked and it disappeared. “You don’t mean that.”

You paced the length of the room, wishing you could run farther. You meant it and you also didn’t. “Of course not. I am sorry,” you breathed. 

“Then come here. All we’re doing is sleeping. I’m not letting you stay on the floor like a dog.” She combed through her hair, waves of red cascading down past her shoulders. 

Except it wasn’t just sleeping. If you indulged in this vice once you’d never want to quit it. You’d paw desperately at her door every night. You shook your head and backed away like a spooked horse. “I have slept in worse places.”

“Is it me?” She asked, shoulders slumping with the words. “Do you not trust me?”

“No. No, it is not you.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

You shook your head as if to fling the question away. The problem was that you weren’t cut out for relationships of any kind. Didn’t she know how dangerous you were? Shouldn’t she know that you bit? “There is no problem.”

“I know you well enough to know when you’re not telling me something.” You started to get the feeling this wasn’t really about where you slept anymore.

“Can we talk about this in the morning?” You tried, rubbing furiously at the back of your head.

“No. I hate feeling like you’re not comfortable around me,” she said. “Is there something wrong with me?”

“No. I trust you with my life. You know that.” Your voice cracked at the end. It was never her fault, and you hated yourself for not being able to be what she needed. To reassure and support her. To be normal.

“Then please, tell me what’s going on.”

“I–”

“What are you so afraid of?” She asked the question at barely more than a whisper, but the words lit a spark in you like a gunshot. 

“Leave it Natalia,” you commanded in Russian, spinning on your heel. You fixed her with a cold stare, no longer seeing her as you should be. Perched on the bed sat the Black Widow, and she had broken rank.

“No,” she scolded, rising to meet the challenge. “You don’t get to talk to me like that. We are not in the Red Room. Do you understand?” Anyone else and you would have seized them and smacked them clean across the cheek. Anyone else and they’d have a dozen fresh bruises to remind them of their place. But this was Natalia. And you’d never hurt Natalia. You clenched your jaw and drew your lips back, fighting the urge to pound the wall in. 

“I hate you.” You felt as if you’d just barely outran an onslaught of attackers, and they were still watching. 

“No you don’t,” she said, face still as marble and expressive as a wall of stone.

“Why are you here? Why will you not leave? You are the reason I am like this,” you said, voice cracking as a growing child's did. If it wasn’t for her you’d be perfect, you knew it. Instead she tempted you down a path of distraction, convinced you to embrace weakness.

“I’m here because I will always stand beside you. Always,” she said as if it was all too simple.

“But you left. You were going to die and leave me alone.” Defecting to SHIELD had not been her original plan. Letting them kill her was. Lucky it had been Clint Barton behind the trigger that night. “And now I am stuck here because of you and I hate it.”

“You feel stuck?” For a second the wall slipped and a flash of hurt escaped Natalia’s gaze.

“Yes,” you said. “I do. You ruined my life.” Red hot anger ignited itself within you. And it was all aimed at the woman before you.

“I didn’t make you do anything. I never have,” she said, shaking her head. “You’re here because you know deep down that the Red Room is an awful place. A place that takes little children and beats them into weapons.”

“It made us strong.”

“It broke us.”

You grimaced and kicked aimlessly at the ground. “I still cannot stand it here.” The wrath began to dissipate. Shame swelled to take its place.

“We are safer now than we ever have been.”

“I cannot trust you. You are a Widow. You–You are lying to me. You always have been.” Paranoia twisted smiles into smirks, kind words into carefully crafted scalpels. She’d learn all of your weaknesses and leave you gutted on top of her rotting pile of victims.

“I am not a Widow. Not anymore. Do you understand?”

You grunted an acknowledgement.

“Markov.” She called your surname. “Yes or no.”

“Yes,” you ground out. “I understand.” Regret pooled in your belly like bile. She had asked what you were so afraid of and you’d gone and shown her. The closer Natalia became the less control you felt you had. Emotions twisted together in a whirlwind inside your head, mutating into a throbbing mass of anger. Natalia handled her emotions, always choosing the correct words and wearing the face she wanted people to see. Dreykov had taught you that pretty words were for the Widows and the women. Unchecked, the rage festered until your hands shook with it. “I do not want to hurt you,” you said, switching back to English with an accent hanging heavy over the words.

“I know,” she sighed. “But you do, you know. When you lash out at me it hurts.” 

A dozen excuses ran through your head. None of them even came close to making it up. You were just a bad person. “This is why you have to let me sleep on the floor.” You felt as though you’d finally been allowed to regain control of your body after some raging force had overtaken you. It left you dizzy with the shame of your words.

Natalia didn’t say anything. Her green gaze bore straight through you. Vulnerability raked at your spine as if she held your bleeding heart in her fist.

“Please,” you added. You did not beg.

“You can sleep on the floor,” she relented. The cool release of relief soothed your aching mind. “But you have to promise me something.”

“Okay.”

“Promise me that when we get back you’ll work on talking through whatever’s going on in your mind. If not with me that’s fine. But you have to talk to someone.”

The offer was steep. The urge to shut it all in was more than an instinct. Being guarded was the key to your survival. “Fine.” If tearing yourself apart meant Natalia could find peace, you would rip the flesh away yourself. “I can do that.”

She blinked as if she hadn’t expected you to agree. “Here.” She held out a blanket that had been folded at the end of the bed. 

“Thank you.” You shut off the light and laid on the floor. For a moment before your eyes adjusted you couldn’t see a thing besides pitch black. Your heart thundered in your chest as shapes began to fall back into focus. The rectangle dresser, the thick bed frame, the moonlight filtering in through the blinds on the window. Covered in the rather large blanket and supported by the carpeted floor you fell asleep. 

You dreamt most nights. Vivid atrocities doused in blood and the screams of pigs to the slaughter. The tip of a sword, plunged through the hearts of the guilty and innocent alike. A metal fist, knocking you sideways and ramming you in the face until your eyes swelled shut. Never stopping until its master called it off. Faceless bodies behind surgical masks, watching as you writhed under a spotlight like a bug under a magnifying glass. A burn beneath your skin so violent your jaw locked with the pain and you felt as if you couldn’t even draw the tiniest of breaths. 

None of them held a candle to the nightmare that cursed you tonight. It had visited since you were small, and it came often. Not just the feeling, but the memory of being suspended in limbo.

Your limbs froze, even your neck refused to lift your head as you stared at a single spot on the popcorn ceiling. The walls, the fear-soaked smell of your own sweat, the buzz of a lamp to your right all closed in on you. You couldn’t cry, you couldn’t speak, it took everything you had just to breathe.

Time stretched on and all you could do was lay there and stare at the ceiling. You tried to focus on the drone of the lamp instead of the heavy panting a foot away from you. But you never could completely. Your chest constricted with every breath but never reached the point of constriction. Your stomach crackled with repulsion, but bile never rose into your throat. You forever hung teetering on the edge, violation wrapped around your frail body. 

I’m trapped. I’m trapped. I’m trapped. I’m–

Your eyes flew open and you sat up, knocking skulls with someone else. A strangled noise leapt from your mouth into the silent air. No buzzing lamp. No heavy breathing besides your own. Your limbs had become tangled in a blanket and you thrashed to free yourself. 

Your head snapped up at the sound of your name. The word lassoed your mind and hauled you to the present. Concerned green eyes peered at you in the dark. You knew those eyes. For a second you imagined they belonged to a child no older than thirteen. She wasn’t supposed to be in your room. She wasn’t supposed to see you like this. “What are you doing in here?” You thrust your hand out to keep her away. “Get out.”

“Hey,” Natalia said, voice as gentle as the evening breeze. Her kindness would get her killed. She spoke your name again and the illusion dissolved some more. “You’re safe. You were dreaming. We’re at Clint Barton’s house in Iowa.” 

You got to your feet on shaky legs, looking through the woman in front of you. The room around you was not the one in the lingering dream and not the one you grew up sleeping in. 

A cool hand found your cheek and tilted your gaze down. “Come back,” Natalia said.

The shadows fled, no match for her. Not truly gone, but subdued for now. “I am sorry I woke you,” you said. 

“Don’t apologize.” She drew a breath. “I was awake anyways.”

“I guess sleep is not especially kind to either of us.”

“No. I guess not.” 

She pulled away, stepping into the splash of moonlight on the wall. You thought she looked like an angel, or maybe a ghost. Either way she looked ethereal, as if she might turn to smoke if you reached out to touch her.

“I thought you said you’d grown out of them,” she whispered, facing the light, and away from where you hunkered out of its reach.

Your jaw twitched. “I lied.”

She nodded to herself. Disappointed but not surprised. You thought she might berate you for it, present a list of the consequences until they were seared into your brain. Instead she just extended a hand and said, “Come here.”

You fell into her and let her pull you onto the edge of the bed. You sat there, feet planted on the floor. “I hope I did not wake anyone else,” you said.

“You didn’t,” she said, settling down beside you. “You were so quiet. I almost didn’t notice something was wrong.”

“What happened?”

“I just…had the feeling something was wrong. That I needed to check on you.” She turned your forearm up and traced her thumb over the pulse point on your wrist. “Your forehead was all sweaty and you were breathing super fast. You seemed so scared.”

“I am okay,” you said.

“It’s okay to not be sometimes. I think I’m starting to learn that.”

“I really am.” You wanted to say more. You chewed on your lip, staring at the door as if it could tell you what to do. Natalia, so small yet stronger than you in a million ways. She deserved to know how much she meant to you. “I am always more than okay when you are with me. You make me feel safe.”

“Do you mean it?” Her eyes met yours, pupils blown amidst the fern green iris. You wondered if it was because of you or the dark. 

“Yes,” you said. “You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. I think…I would go through all of it again just to keep you.”

“I don’t know if I’m worth that much.” You wished she could see herself through your eyes so that she understood. 

“Natalia Romanova, you are worth the entire world.” Hesitantly you leaned over and kissed her temple, lips just grazing the soft skin. You pulled away, scanning her face for any sign of reproach. “Was that okay?”

“It was more than okay,” she said. She leaned her weight against you, shoulders pressing into each other. 

You sat like that for a while, listening to the sound of her gentle breathing and basking in the peaceful moment. Maybe if you could remember how you felt now you could summon the strength to serve SHIELD. You allowed your mind to wander to places you normally didn’t entertain. Someday you and Natalia would have your own place like this. A bubble no one else could touch where you could sit just like this every night. You would never have it though, only the filmy mirage of pretense.

Natalia moved to the other side of the bed, laying down on her side. “Come lay down with me,” she said.

You didn’t want to return to the floor, but you weren’t sure you could stay on the bed either. 

“Please.” Behind you the best dipped and a pair of arms slid around you. One of her hands came to rest right above your heart. She tucked her chin into the space between your neck and shoulder and involuntarily, you dropped your head against hers. “It is Christmas after all.”

Natalia tugged you down and you let her, lowering yourself until your back was flush against the mattress and your head lay in her lap. You refused to move your legs, leaving them draped over the side. “I am so sorry for the things I said earlier. I did not mean it.” Shame stabbed at your lungs and behind your eyes. Your jaw ached with it, and your tongue was sour with traces of your own bitterness. 

“It’s okay. I understand,” she said. You didn’t deserve her tenderness.

“You should not have to, Natalia. It is not fair for you to deal with.”

“Remember when we promised each other we’d never leave the other one alone?” 

You huffed a dry laugh. “We could not have been more than fourteen years old.”

“So more than old enough to know what we were saying,” she countered.

“It will happen again,” you said, tone darkening. 

“And I’ll be there when it does.”

“I cannot control it. Sometimes things happen and I feel everyone is out to get me.” You flicked your gaze away from her face. “Then the shouting and the hateful words and the rage comes. I do things I cannot take back.”

“That’s why you need people who know that that isn’t really you. Who know you’re kind and loyal to the bone. Who will help you heal.” 

“I am not sick,” you insisted. 

“I know. But we need to understand whatever this is,” she said. “Before it gets you into trouble with the wrong people.”

You took a deep breath, ribs shuddering like the bars of a rusted cage. “I am scared,” you whispered. 

Natalia ran a calloused hand across your cheek. “I know,” she said. “Just know you’re not alone. We’ll figure this out together.”

You nodded your head, afraid that speaking might reveal the lump in your throat.

“Come on, let’s get some rest,” she said, tugging on the collar of your shirt.

 “You are unbelievable,” you mumbled.

“What happened to me being the best person ever?”

“You can be both.”

She peered down at you, eyes alight with mischief. “I haven’t heard a ‘no’.”

Exhaustion had broken down your resolve, and you’d have a better chance of sleeping through the rest of the night in the bed. “Okay.” Your agreement had nothing to do with the way Natalia blinked slowly at you, nor the way she had taken to sifting her fingers through your hair.

“Finally,” she said, lips quirking up in a victorious smile. “You’re almost as stubborn as me. Not quite though.”

“Yeah, whatever,” you said, pushing yourself fully onto the bed. “Do not make me change my mind.”

You laid down and Natalia settled her head on your chest. “You’re so warm,” she said.

“Is that why you wanted me up here? Cause you were cold?” 

“No,” she said as she pressed her cheek further into your collarbone. “Go to sleep.”

“Goodnight Natalia.”

“Goodnight.”

You woke in the morning not to the terror of memory infiltrating your mind but to sunlight illuminating the space before your eyelids. You blinked rapidly, clearing away the morning bleariness. You couldn't recall the last time you had started your day after sunup. 

“Hey there, sleepyhead,” Natalia said, still buried into your side. Under the sheet her legs tangled up in yours. 

You yawned, stretching your arms above your head. “Have you been awake long?”

“No,” she said. “Just a few minutes maybe. I think we should get up though. I imagine Cooper will be awake soon. It would be cruel to keep him waiting. I remember how exciting Christmas morning was.” She said, sounding far away. “It wasn’t real, but…there is something really magical about this time of year.”

You rubbed gentle circles on her upper back in between her shoulder blades where you knew she held tension. “It is real now, no? For the Bartons and for us, Christmas means something?” 

“Yeah,” she breathed, crinkles around her eyes when she looked at you. “This is real.” You had a feeling she wasn’t referring to the holidays anymore.

“Before we go downstairs I have something for you,” you said. You palmed the thin silver necklace that had been stored in your bag. “Turn around and close your eyes.”

“Should I be nervous?” She asked as she faced away from you.

“No, no.” You clasped the chain around her neck. “Okay you can look now.”

Natalia examined the charm, cupping it in her hand. “I um—I didn’t get you anything.”

“And you do not need to,” you said. “You are all I could ever want.”

“Where’d you get it?”

“Clint took me out. I was saving it for the right time. Now seemed perfect.” You looked at the little silver sword strung hilt to blade tip along the necklace. Your signature weapon. “Do you like it?”

“It’s beautiful. Thank you,” she said, smiling up at you in a way that made your head go empty and quiet. You felt as if everything might be okay when she smiled at you.

“It is, uh…It is to remind you that I am always on your side. That I am always with you even when it may seem like I am not.” Your heart pounded with fear she may reject the gift. She would cast it aside, and you with it.

“It’s perfect,” she said instead. “You’re perfect.”

“Merry Christmas Natalia.”

“Merry Christmas.”

A/N: The drive from D.C. to Iowa is definitely NOT doable in the time they make it in the story.

[strawberrywinter4]

I’m supposed to be working at the moment, but I’m going to take a break and say this:

I have been in the Sherlock fandom for about two years now and I am so grateful I found such a safe place.

I started watching Sherlock during a difficult time in my life.

I was hanging out with a friend one afternoon and I don’t even really know how it happened, but she convinced me to watch Sherlock.

It can take me a while to get into a show. Like… a long while. So, I was a bit wary about it, but I’m grateful for her persistence because she just sat me down and turned it on.

I’m going to admit that I didn’t instantly fall in love with it. There’s a lot to the show and (in my opinion) it can be tough to understand if you don’t pay good attention to it.

My friend and I only ended up watching two episodes. After that, I didn’t think much of it.

One evening, I was sitting on my sofa, scrolling through my TV to see what’s on and low and behold, I somehow find Sherlock.

I watch it again… and this time I can’t stop watching it. It only takes me a few days to get through the whole series, and suddenly it’s my new obsession.

I legitimately couldn’t stop thinking about it. It got worse when I found fanfiction.

Sherlock saved me. I don’t mean to be too dramatic, but it really did. I was in such a stump part of my life and reading Sherlock fanfics or watching Sherlock(TV) allowed me to feel a little lighter, like all the burden that was presented at my shoulders could just dissipate.

The creators of the show turned characters that were popular in the 1800s into something people in this century could relate to.

They got these marvelous characters and studied them in such a deep manner and brought them to life on screen, in the modern world.

And it isn’t just about the characters but it’s also about the whole feeling of the show. They show 221B Baker Street as a cozy, homey safe haven which Sherlock and John can live their adorable domestic life. It is where they plan, discuss cases, laugh, drink tea, sleep, sit by the crackling fire, watch crap telly, eat takeout, and all the things that make them feel at home.

And with Sherlock and John seeing 221B as their home, it has also had the fandom seeing it as such as well.

Just the thought of the show makes me feel comforted. It made my past self feel comforted when she was going through hell.

I know for a fact Sherlock has helped every person in the fandom someway, somehow. It’s a beautiful show that portrays intelligence, friendship, family, relationships, mystery, excitement, warmth, sadness, grief, romance, happiness… there’s too much to list.

But all the qualities of the show have allowed us fans to find a place where we can feel safe. We go to Sherlock whether we feel happy or sad, we go to Sherlock when we need comfort, we go to Sherlock when we need distraction, we go to Sherlock when we need to cry, we go to Sherlock when we need to feel something.

So, sorry for my dramatic rant but I just needed to get this off my chest.

I hope that Sherlock has offered all of you some sort of happiness.

Have a marvelous day <3

[tealeavesandtrash]

Wolfstar Micro Fic - @wolfstarmicrofic prompt: Amnesia - 750 Words

Remus sits on the sofa, staring at the bookshelf in front of him, wonders how many of those books are his, which ones he’s read or was excited to read. This is his life now. When he isn’t at doctors appointments, he’s staring at photos or objects pondering what history he has attached to them. This is his house, he knows logically it is - he’s in photos on the walls, his name is on the mail - but it feels like he’s living in a stranger's body. There are days he’d rather stay in hospital just to escape the relentless notion that he's an imposter in someone else life.

He can feel Sirius’ eyes on him, watching in anticipation, like any moment things will snap back into place. “Lily found some more photos,” Sirius says, “we could go through them today?” Remus nods, although he doesn’t feel like he has much choice in the matter. “Is she coming round?” “Yeah, but she won’t stay.” He likes Lily. He suspects they used to be very close, but it feels juvenile to ask outright if they’re best friends. Despite that, he slips back into the bedroom shortly after she arrives, feigning tiredness. It’s not a complete lie - he’s tired a lot which is supposedly a good sign that his brain is trying to fix itself. But he’s also tired of all the visitors - friends of theirs trying to help who don’t how to act around him and Remus is constantly running through a mental rolodex trying to find names for faces. 

“The Potters send their love,” Sirius says while laying the photos from Lily across the living room floor. Remus scans them, trying to identify them. It’s one of the memory exercises they keep pushing in therapy that feels more like a child’s game. He picks up a photo of a couple and a baby and Sirius gives him a hopeful smile. Remus doesn’t explain that he picked it because it’s the only picture of a redhead. When he first picked out a photo of his parents Sirius had been so excited, only to be crumble a moment later when Remus explained it was a simple process of elimination - they just shared the most resemblance with him. Remus stopped explaining his logic after that, save people the disappointment. 

Nights are the worst. When he’d first come home, he refused to share a bed so Sirius insisted on taking the guest room. Not that it made a difference to Remus, he feels just as much a guest in the master bedroom as he would the guestroom. Sirius loiters outside his room when they say goodnight, the same way he does every night, like he’s half expecting Remus to invite him in. “Why are you being so patient with me?” Sirius looks at him with soft, sad eyes. “Because you’re my Moony,” he says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. The nickname feels foreign. Sirius says it with such revance but it means nothing to Remus. “I’m not though, I might never be him again.” “You will-” “-You don’t know that,” Remus cuts him off. “People keep saying that, like everything will suddenly fix itself, but you have no idea. No one does.” Sirius swallows, dropping in gaze. Remus might feel bad for snapping if he wasn’t so sick of everyone’s blind optimism. Sirius takes Remus’ hands, gently runs his thumb over his knuckles. “It doesn’t matter,” he says quietly. “You’ll always be my Moony, even if you don’t see it. Even if you never see it.” 

Remus curls up in the middle of an empty bed, a thousand thoughts bouncing around his head as he replays Sirius’ words. He thinks about how alone he is, open and exposed in a room that feels too hollow. He thinks about how his therapist told him to embrace the unknown, push through the fear.

The floor is cold under his bare feet as he pads across the landing and slips into the guest room. The curtains are wide open, illuminating the room with moonlight which he's immensely grateful for. It doesn’t feel as claustrophobic. Sirius has his back to him, chest rising and falling with steady breaths. Remus doesn’t slip under the covers, this alone is a big enough step, but he does lie down next Sirius, close enough that they’re almost touching. Remus takes a deep breath to steady himself, lets himself adjust to the moment. Tentatively, he lets his eyes slip closed.

[middlechild404]

Taking care of sick Jack

Summary: You come home to find a sick jack laying on your couch and you can't help yourself from trying to take care of him.

_____________________________________

I walked in through the front door expecting to be alone in my apartment, but instead, was met by a wide figure that was sprawled on my couch. I was treading lightly, because he didn't seem to move when I closed the door, meaning he was sound asleep.

I didn't expect to find him here because it had been a while since we'd seen each other last. Technically, we lived together in my apartment but he still stayed at his apartment most days because it was closer to the studio.

Having him in my space was still a bit unfamiliar, due to the short amount of time he has had the keys. Aside from the unfamiliarity, I still felt the fuzzy feeling at the pit of my stomach whenever he was here.

My hands went unconsciously toward his hair as I was towering over him. I could feel the heat radiating off from his body as my palm touched his forehead.

"Jack.." I whispered, trying to wake him up.

He only moaned and turned to his side, not giving me an answer. I started rubbing his back, continuing my attempt to wake him up. At last, he slightly opened one of his eyes to look at me.

“You're burning up” I stated. “How are you babe?” I questioned worriedly.

“I don't know, I don't feel so good.” He said, trying to get up.

I quickly pushed his shoulders down, insisting that he needed to rest. He didn't fight against it as his eyes closed once his head touched one of the pillows that was on the couch. I swiftly went to the main bedroom and brought a comforter to cover him with.

I've never been a great caregiver due to my many failed prior relationships and my mom continuously preaching “the world is female” throughout my upbringing. My mother didn't take my dad leaving us lightly, therefore she had sworn that she would never prioritize a man's needs over her own. That's something she's been trying to drill in my head ever since I was a kid, attempting to teach me about being independent.

Independent, was a word I'd easily use to describe myself. Although, being independent doesn't mean not helping the people you love, which is something my mother would never let into her thick head.

I had this heart wrenching feeling of worry. All I wanted was for Jack to feel better. Therefore I summoned my non-existent talent of cooking and followed a recipe of tomato soup i'd saved on instagram. While the soup was boiling on the stove, I put some garlic bread in the oven.

When everything was ready and I had poured the soup in a bowl I made my way to the living room, setting everything on the table in front of the sofa.

“Babe.. Wake up. I've made you some soup.” I said as my fingers were playing with his curls.

As he was eating away at the food that I'd made, I walked up to find some ibuprofen to bring down his fever and prepare a concoction with tea, ginger and honey that I found on google.

When coming with everything, he had managed to lick the plate clean. He was now leaning back against the sofa and looking up at the ceiling. I interrupted his thoughts when I placed everything on the table. He gave me a gracious smile as he downed the pill and water.

I encouraged him to lie down on the sofa again as I took the remote and put on his favorite show “Succession”. He grabbed the tea and gave me a scrunched look as he took a sip.

“What is this? poison?” he asked with a look of disgust.

“Haha yes, but the good kind.” I winked as he laughed at my remark.

I motioned for him to lift his head so I could sit down on the couch. His head was now in my lap as I kept going through his hair with my fingers, with succession on the TV. All I could think about was that I could do this forever. I couldn't help myself from smiling and looking down at his face. He eventually noticed me staring, which made him look up at me with a tired grin.

“Thank you for taking care of me, there is no other place I'd rather be right now than in your arms. I love you babe.” He said lovingly.

“I love you too.” I answered while my cheeks were hurting due to the grin my face made at his words.

_________________________________________

I know that it's been a while lovies, hope you like this one! I have had a few hectic months but I'm back now so stay tuned for more content❤️❤️

Taglist: @jackharloww , @j-worlds-blog @itsyagirljaz , @harlowcomehome , @neon-lights-and-glitter

[missmarveledsblog]

i'll show you different ( Joel miller x reader) part 8

summary : it all started there and now it was going to end there while joel and the other were hoping they weren't too late ...

warnings : mention and involves domestic abuse , knife and guns mentioned , its a violent ass part so if any of this is triggering to you please skip take care of yourself , no outbreak au

previous part

She should be scared of him , she should be terrified at how tight his grip was on the wheel knowing what damage those hands were like. The force of them on her skin when she  breathed the wrong way , how those hands have made her cower and fear for her life. She wasn’t scared , she wasn’t anything but pissed off , the rage of her  ex husband one that told her things she believed for some long . how she blamed herself for his action like it justified it all . now her grandfather lay fighting for his life because this asshole just couldn’t take no and her leaving . a child throwing a chaotic tantrum to get his own way or a rabid dog that wasn’t going to stop til it was stopped forcefully.  She wasn’t scared til she noticed the road they were taking the one she would actively avoid , one she would gladly take the longest route to avoid .  He was bringing her home ,  the one where life fell apart , one where the walls held nothing but haunted and tortured memories and the one that her mom perished in. 

“ how the hell did  no one see her leave “ sherif stomped around the room . 

“ because she didn’t want to be caught i think she wants to face him “ tommy scoffed. 

“ i didn’t hear that “ the sherif growled. 

 “ why the hell would she do this ?” joel gritted his teeth . 

“ because she sick of being the victim , she has been one all her life “ a voice called from the door . “ i was afraid of this happening  nathan barnes , her lawyer and friend “ he held his hand out as the sherif took it . “  how hell you find out so fast “ . 

“ knowing he knew where she was i had to make sure she was safe only to see he’s escalating  how is her grandfather” he asked more quietly. 

“ not completely out of the woods but stable for now “ joel finally spoke. 

“ who are you two?” he asked. 

“ worlds shittest bodyguard her father sent” tommy scoffed. 

“ her father?” nathan eyes widened. 

“ he trying to make sure she safe his way of making amends and hey we were giving lover boy the chance” mike glared. 

“ lover boy … i guess we can talk about all that once we found her , if she not afraid he’s going to want to be  since he already he took her grandfather out of the picture where else would he take her?” nathan asked. 

“ we’ve no idea she not shared much which us “ joel spoke up . 

The time withered walls , that sick feeling in her stomach as strong as it was that night and others before it . she tried to fight him off , tried to pull from it walls only for him to hit her hard  and again and again til anger turned into submission . she felt the chill in her bones as she could hear their yelling , the smashing off places and glass . she could see if as if it was happening right there and then when she ran to push he away only for his anger to turn to here . how the face of the monster and her fathers merged into one . til her mother attacked pushing him away from her child and to save the one thing she loved most in the world . how her mother pleaded and pleaded with her to run and never look back , the smile when she agreed before she was gone hearing the anger in his voice and the sound of her own mother leaving the world . now she could see it repeating this was were it was going to end whether she was walking out this house or being brought out of it . 

“ why can you just listen , why did you run away from me” he spat pushing her to the torn up sofa as she looked at the blood stained floor  , it was just soaked in the wood aged with years and years but she could tell , it was last place she seen her mother , that teary eyed smile and almost relief in the tears as she ran out the door .  the whole thing was too much , too much pain of past and present in her head as she drowned out the voice of her current monster between what he was calling an apology and yet in the same breath  blaming her .  like it was all build and building til something snapped within her and the voice of her inner child and past self was coming to the surface and the merciful scream that she unleashed that was already pushing the border of her vocal cords. It was sure to reach the house nearby as she pushed him off of her and kicked him away . 

“ you think they will come , you think they would bother helping you” he gritted trying to get ahold of something to shut her up on for her boot to hit him straight into the mouth sending him crashing to through the coffee table . 

“ whether anyone comes or not it ends here whether i kill you or you kill me “ she stood pushing her booth on his chest as his eyes widen . “ you monsters have took over every part of my life hurt those i love most and i let it happen  by not fighting back , i tried doing it the right way and well law sadly isn’t always on the victims side but if it stops it all i will be the law and i’m not letting your stupid child self centered arrogant and cowardly ass to have control on me or my life�� again so if i need to go to your level then you bet your fucking ass i will “ she stood pushing her boot down. 

“ you don’t have my connections darling you’ll go to prison like daddy” she could hear the waver in his voice. 

“ i’ll smile in the fucking mugshot” she leaned down  her fist pulled back before it collided with his face.  

“ FUCKING BITCH “ He growled diving on her  “ you think you can take me down “ he spat  hitting her hard she could taste the metallic liquid fill her mouth  , his hands wrapped around her throat and her lungs begging for the oxygen . hands scratching any and everywhere fighting to get him one way or another.  The world slipping away before it went black . 

“ no but i can “ a gun cocked as they looked to see maria standing shotgun in hand . “ now off of her “ she held firm , anger in her eyes , she couldn’t save her best friend all those years she sure as hell wasn’t going to let her daughter suffer the same fate . “ get out of here or i swear to god almighty i will blow your head off of your shoulders “ she turned as he held his hands up  watching him leave as she ran to the girl . “ come on baby wake up “ she shook her only for her eyes to slowly open . 

“ maria” she croaked. 

“ he’s gone “ her voice cracked as she lifted her leaving the gun on the ground as they walked to the door only for her ex to run at them this time something in his hand the metal as she could see pushing maria out of the way  feeling it pierce and burn in the skin . as she fell back he pulled it out  hitting the ground she looked up to see him turning ready to attack only this time it went so fast . 

They pulled up outside of the house the door held open it didn’t help the sherif visibly shudder at the sight of the place .  they barely got a chance to even register what was happening when the booming bang went off sending joel out of the car only for tommy and nathan to pull him back . 

“ shots fired i repeat shots fired” the sherif called into his radio giving the address before pulling his own gun . just as he got to the ends of the steps he heard the footsteps coming. 

“ d-d-don’t shoot” the voice called as the men stood seeing her hanging weakly to a blood covered maria. 

“ he’s dead i think “ she gritted holding her side . 

“ peach shit “ . 

They rushed to her side before tommy could even get to her side joel was lifting her up  and carrying her to the cruiser . 

“ sherif come on “ was all he said . 

“ stay here and wait rest of you “ . 

“ i’m coming she needs her lawyer” nathan rushed. 

“ i’ll stay with maria “ tommy wrapped his jacket around the woman . 

“ h-h-he stabbed her and tried to stab me , we thought he was gone  i-i-it it happened so fast” she murmured as tommy led her to the steps to sit . 

“ keep us updated” was all he could get out of his mouth . 

“ you had to fight back huh “ joel whispered as her eyes began to get heavy crying out at the pressure being put on her wound. 

“ i’m tired of being afraid  , i tired of running “ she cried .  “i thought i would be ok  … i-i-i’d be ok going down with the fight but i don’t wanna go joel” she sniffled. 

“ hey we’re gonna get you to the hospital and they’re gonna stitch you up and then i’m gonna give you hell for scaring me like that” he wiped her tears . 

“ not too loud .. i-it-its a hos-hospital still” she gave a weak smile as they chuckled . 

“Not too loudly “ he smiled hand on her reddened cheeks , her beautiful face all cut and red surely to bruise hell if the prick wasn’t dead either of them in that car would gladly finish them off.  It felt like hours but it was minutes before they got to the hospital it went in slow motion then so fast as he held her hand before she was gone behind the doors , her blood evident on each man .  each pair of eyes locked on the door as until the sherif radio went off . 

“ i’ll be back but i’ll make sure this is clear cut “ he spoke up yet he didn’t want to move. 

“ i got box of evidence in my car “ nathan finally spoke a bit happy it wasn’t the outcome he thought was coming well least at the moment it wasn’t . 

“ drop it by the office when you get chance call me if … if anything happens “ was all the man said as left. 

 “ she’s a fighter even when she was scared  … she’s gonna be ok” nathan said but he didn’t know if he was saying to himself or the stranger who looked like his life was hanging in the balance. 

part 9

taglist: @harriedandharassed @missladym1981

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The Fella Part 9 (James Maguire X Quinn!Reader)

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Summary: The girls have been waiting for months to see Take That in Belfast. When a polar bear is on the loose and Mary forbids them from going, they have to take matters into their own hands.

A/N: only took a million years but i finally wrote a new part lol BIG thanks to @crumpets-are-better-with-jam for writing out the episode’s script for me, without them I probably would’ve never found the time to be able to write this. Also the word g*psy is censored and used as little as possible because it’s considered a slur but some say that if you say it with the right context it’s ok, but i don’t wanna take any chances, you know?

***

The weekends were always the best part of the week for Y/n. No school or work, no obligations except for church on Sunday, and being able to sleep in late. Y/n wished to be an adult, so her life could be like this every day.

But this was going to be the weekend of all weekends. Months ago, the girls and James scrimped and saved every coin and bill and were able to buy concert tickets to see Take That in Belfast. And today was the day of the concert. The girls sat all squished together on the couch, watching said band on the TV, with James perched on the arm of the sofa, subtly clinging to Y/n. Their relationship was still a secret somehow, today marking their third month together. They were honestly surprised nobody noticed how their affection was more than friendly.

“God Almighty.” Grandpa Joe spoke in horror, glaring at the screen. “I don’t know what the world is coming to. Bloody perverts.”

“You’re overreacting, Da,” Mary said from the kitchen. Joe scoffed in disbelief.

“Overreacting? That lad’s got no trousers on, for Christ’s sake.” Michelle grinned at the detail that had been pointed out.

“He’s wearing too much still, if I’ve anything to say about it.” She muttered to the girls, who giggled apart from James and Clare.

“Why do they keep touching themselves?” Grandpa Joe asked the telly, as if it would provide any answers.

“‘Cause they’re artists, Granda,” Erin said, but he just grumbled.

“Dirty English bastards is what they are.” He turned to look at James. “No offense, son.” Although he didn’t really sound like he cared whether or not he had offended the boy. Y/n patted James’ thigh in comfort as the scene on the TV changed from the girls’ beloved boy band to a news anchor. 

“Come on, girls. Time to hit the road here.” Gerry announced as he came in. He gestured at James. “Have they roped you into going as well, son?” Y/n laughed, leaning against James to look at her father.

“Hardly. He’s practically riding Gary Barlow. Aren’t ya, Jamie?” He rolled his eyes at the statement, as if they had had this kind of conversation a hundred times.

“I’m not! I just respect him as a songwriter, that’s all.” Michelle rolled her eyes at him, as if she had also had this kind of conversation a hundred times.

“Aye, dead on, James, so you do.”

“Will we need our passports, Gerry?” Orla asked, giving her lungs a break from blowing on her mother’s spray tan.

“For Belfast? I don’t think so, Love.”

“Belfast?” Joe asked, but was ignored.

“Are we not a bit early, Daddy?” Erin asked, checking the time on the wall.

“It’s a two-hour drive with traffic, love.”

“This thing’s in Belfast?” Sick of not being acknowledged, Grandpa Joe stood from his favorite chair to stand with the girls and Gerry.

“Da, it’s eight hours till the doors open,” Y/n said, almost laughing at her father’s sense of urgency.

“I know. We’re cutting it fine.” He seemed completely serious about the matter, which just made Y/n want to laugh more.

“Belfast?” Joe said again, now effectively catching the room’s attention. “Sure, why didn’t you just sell the wains into white slavery and be done with it?”

“Gerry will be with them, Da.” Mary tried to reason, but that just seemed to set him off even more.

“Well, that’s worse. Sure, they hate his kind there.”

“My kind?” Gerry asked, not knowing what Joe could possibly be talking about.

“Pricks.” Y/n laughed, shrinking in her seat when Gerry whipped around to look at his daughter in offense. “Sorry, Daddy.”

“That is enough!” Mary finalized, still working in the kitchen. “They’re going to the concert, Da, and that’s the end of the matter.”

The news switched to another topic again. Something about how a polar bear escaped from Belfast Zoo. Hearing the name, Y/n started to worry.

“Now, will you see sense?” Grandpa Joe asked his daughter, pointing at the TV. Erin snorted.

“Aye, Granda, ‘cause an escaped polar bear’s gonna track us down and kill us. As if Mammy’s bothered by that.” There was a beat of silence, and suddenly, all the girls were panicked.

“Wise up, Mammy!” Y/n squealed frantically, shooting up from her seat on the couch to get a good look at her mother. “As if a polar bear’s gonna rock up a Take That concert!”

“He wouldn’t get a ticket for a start,” Orla added. “They sold out months ago.”

“You’d be surprised, girls,” Mary said.

“The concert’s nowhere near the zoo.” Gerry tried to reason. As usual, Joe countered him.

“But he’s not in the zoo anymore, is he, Simple Simon? He’s sauntering about Belfast without a care in the world!”

“Aye, keep up, Gerry,” Sarah said, blowing on the wet tan that coated her fingers. 

“What I’m saying is that it would be quite a lot of ground for him to cover.”

“They’re quick on their feet when they wanna be, love,” Mary said. Y/n sped to her father, grabbing him by the shoulders to make him face her.

“Daddy, please, don’t listen to her.” She pleaded. “We should go now so we’re not late. Please, Da!” Gerry put his hands on his daughter’s wrists, rubbing his thumbs over the joints while giving her a sympathetic look.

“Oh, love, I’m sorry, but I’d rather keep my head.”

“Come on, Mary.” Michelle pleaded with the girl’s mother. “If you don’t let Y/n and Erin go, then our ma’s won’t let us go.”

“Well, neither they should, and I’ll be ringing them to say as much.” The teens looked at Mary in despair as she went to the phone, likely to ring everyone’s mothers. While dialing, Mary looked back to the living room. “Look, girls, I know how much you were looking forward to seeing This and That.”

“Take That.” Erin corrected.

“But there’ll be other concerts.” Y/n laughed humorlessly, resting her head on her father’s shoulder momentarily before letting go of him completely. 

“No, there won’t.” She felt hysterical. She couldn’t believe this was happening to her. Months of looking forward to this concert just to be banned by her mother because of a polar bear. Only something like this would happen to her. “The fact that this one’s happening is a miracle ‘cause no one good comes here ‘cause we all keep killing each other!” James shifted on the arm of the couch to make room for Y/n to sit next to him. He rubbed her back as she leaned against him for support, devastated.

“And now we’re overrun with polar bears.” Sarah sighed, pulling out a cig.

Frustrated, Y/n stormed up to her room, the girls and James close behind. They had found her face down on her bed, screaming into a pillow. James sat beside her, pulling the pillow out of her grasp before she could suffocate herself. While everyone settled in Y/n’s room, she rested her head on James’ thigh. Her anger and sadness were slowly washing away from James rubbing her back.

“This is so fucking unfair.” She muttered.

“I know,” James responded, brushing hair out of her face.

“Well, I dunno about you lot, but I’m not letting that fat furry fuck ruin the biggest day of my life,” Michelle announced harshly, pacing the floor.

“What can we do?” Erin asked, lying across her sister’s legs.

“Right, listen, girls.” Michelle drew their attention. They hoped that she had come up with a plan to save the day, but were quickly let down. “I’ve never told anyone this before, but… sometimes, when Robbie’s being interviewed, it’s like he’s sending me messages through the TV. You know, like telepathically or whatever, It’s like he’s saying…” She sighed, clearly in a dreamy daze. “We’re meant to be together.”

Everyone stared at her.

“Aye, maybe don’t tell that to anyone again, Michelle,” Erin said. “Ever.”

“I think she might be more cracked than Orla,” Y/n muttered to James, who snorted.

“What?” Orla looked at Y/n after hearing her name.

“Nothing, love.”

“Look, this is too important,” Michelle said. “I’m going to that concert. I’m not afraid of a fucking polar bear!” Everyone enthusiastically agreed. They shouldn’t pay mind to a random bear or what their parents have to say about anything. Nothing would stop the girls and James from seeing Take That.

“I’ll kill it with me own two hands, if I have to.” Orla declared. 

“Bring it on!” Erin egged on.

“Okay. We seem to have gone down a weird road here, people. I think we just got a bit confused.” Ever the realist and anxiety-riddled girl, Clare tried stopping her friends from the odd discussion. “We don’t actually have to fight a polar bear, and if we did, I wouldn’t fancy our chances because, well, they’re massive.” Orla looked around, confused.

“But there’s six of us.”

“Aye, I think we’d have a real chance,” Y/n said, albeit slightly sarcastically.

“The point is, the polar bear’s not the one stopping us from going to the concert. It’s our mothers, and we’ll never get them to change their minds.” Y/n gasped, sitting up suddenly, seeming to have an idea.

“So we fight Mammy.”

“No, definitely not.” James shot down the idea immediately and welcomed his once again pouty girlfriend to rest in his lap. Michelle leaned toward the group like she was gonna tell them a secret.

“We’re not gonna try and change their minds.” She smirked, and everyone became slightly fearful because Michelle always had less than bright ideas that she’d have them execute. “We’re gonna do something else.” 

“What?” James asked.

***

“I’m still trying to figure out whether or not this is a good idea,” Y/n muttered to James, who she clung to while sitting on his lap. Michelle had somehow convinced everyone to sneak away and get on a bus to Belfast. The group sat in the back of the bus to avoid anyone who may be suspicious of six teenagers traveling by themselves. There wasn’t enough seating for all six of them to sit together, so everyone squished together, and Y/n sat on James’ lap. No one said anything about it besides the comment from Michelle about how James must be giddy to be so close to a girl. He told her to fuck off.

“Same here.” He sighed, hands gripping her closer as the bus crossed a few bumps on the road.

“We’re gonna get caught; I just know it,” Clare said anxiously to the group.

“We’re not gonna get caught, Clare, because as far as our ma’s are concerned, me, you, and James are ’round Erin’s, and Erin, Y/n, and Orla are ’round mine,” Michelle explained, trying to calm Clare down.

“But we’re not ’round yours, Michelle,” Orla responded, confused. “We’re on the bus to Belfast.” 

“Christ.” Y/n rolled her eyes, having heard her cousin say this multiple times since they left the house.

“I cannot explain it to her again. I’m gonna scream.” Michelle looked away from Orla, probably because she would strangle her if she had to deal with the confusion for another second.

“What’s in the suitcase, Michelle?” James asked, staring at the case his cousin had set on the remaining seat near the group. Y/n could’ve sat there, but Michelle wanted a close eye on whatever was in the suitcase without holding it in case they got caught. Everyone stared, curiously waiting for an answer. There was a beat of silence.

“Vodka.” You brought an entire suitcase full of vodka?” Erin asked incredulously.

“Jesus, Michelle, you’ve got a problem,” Y/n added.

“No. There’s mixers as well. I’m not a savage.” Michelle took a second to think, looking down at the case. “You can mix vodka with cider, right?”

“God, I am boiling.” Clare sighed, fanning her face.

“Gee, I wonder why, Clare.” Y/n laughed, looking at her friend who was completely bundled in jackets and scarves.

“What are you wearing?” Erin asked.

“Yeah, you look like a fucking Provo.”

“I don’t want anyone recognizing me, okay?” The bus paused its venture, opening the doors for people to come in and out.

“No one’s gonna recognize you, Clare.” Michelle chastised.

“Clare Devlin, is that you?” Panic ran through everyone. The voice sounded very familiar and fear-inducing. The girls looked towards the front. Sister Michael was moving past the seats and right for them.

“Jesus Christ.” Clare squeaked, trying to hide in her mountain of clothes. Erin leaned into her.

“Relax, Clare.” She said. “She has no authority over us at the weekend. She has no right to question us, and if she tries to, I’ll tell her as much.”

“Aye, I’d like to see you try, Erin.” Y/n hissed to her sister before Sister Michael reached the group.

“Morning, girls.” She said.

“Morning, Sister Michael.” Everyone said in unison.

“What takes you to Belfast?” There was a heavy pause. The girls were silently trying to decide who would speak and what they would say. Erin volunteered herself, speaking quietly from nervousness.

“I’m not really sure that’s-”

“Speak up.” Sister Michael interrupted her. Erin gulped.

“I’m not really sure that that’s any of your business…” Sister Michael stared blankly at her. Everyone waited for her to jump and murder Erin for saying such a thing. Soon, she found words.

“I’m going to assume that was an ill-judged attempt at humor, Miss Quinn.”

“Yes,” Erin whispered, sinking into her seat. Y/n silently prayed that the bus would start moving so Sister Michael would be forced to leave and find a seat somewhere. But God never seemed too kind to the girls.

“Now, answer the question.”

“... We’re going to the museum.” Erin devised a good lie; the girls just hoped they could keep up with the inevitable follow-up questions.

“Which museum?”

“Ulster Museum,” Clare answered.

“What for?”

“A project,” James responded.

“A history project.” Y/n amended. Sister Michael looked at the two. It seemed like she was about to ask why Y/n was in James’ lap, but she decided against it, not wanting to go through the trouble.

“What about?”

“Ulster,” Erin answered once again. Sister Michael gave an unconvinced hum and turned around to find a place to sit. Everyone sighed in relief as the bus started to move again.

“A history project,” Clare said in disbelief. “This web of lies we’re spinning is getting out of control now, girls.” Y/n put a hand on her friend’s shoulder to take her attention.

“If it makes you feel any better, Clare, I actually have a history project due soon.”

“I thought we finished that,” James said quietly to her. She turned to him.

“Yeah, but now I’ve gotta put it all together.”

“It’s grand, Clare,” Michelle said, rolling her eyes at Clare’s constant anxiousness. “I think she bought it.”

“Of course, she didn’t buy it. She’s onto us, I’m telling you. Oh God, I’m sweltering here.”

“Then take it off,” Erin said.

“I can’t take it off; I’ve nothing underneath it.” Everyone paused, looking at her confused.

“What, not even a bra?” Erin asked.

“Jesus, Clare, you’ve no bra on?” Michelle asked incredulously.

“I haven’t got a bra on,” Orla commented.

“Aye, me neither,” Y/n said.

“What?” James practically choked. Suddenly aware of his girlfriend’s body and this new information, he moved his hands down to sit at her hips. Y/n shrugged.

“They dig.”

“What’s she doing now?” Clare asked, and everyone looked at Sister Michael, who sat a few rows ahead of them. She was reading a book, laughing every now and then.

“Reading her book,” James answered, as if they all couldn’t see it. She suddenly turned to the woman in the seat next to her. She had a look of disgust while the woman ate a sandwich. “Now she’s looking at the woman beside her.” Sister Michael stood from her seat. “Now she’s getting up.” She moved towards the back of the bus, closing in on the girls. “Now she’s coming this way.” Soon enough, Sister Michael stood before the group, staring at them. “Now she’s standing right in front of us.”

“What’s he doing?” Sister Michael asked, looking weirdly at James.

“Now she’s-” James’ words were halted by Y/n putting a finger to his lips.

“Stop narrating, Jamie.”

“I want to sit here.” Sister Michael said with finality, pointing to where Michelle’s suitcase sat. Michelle started to panic.

“What? Why?”

“Well, you’re just such wonderful company, girls, what with your stimulating conversation and razor-sharp wit.” Everyone knew she was being sarcastic. Except for Erin.

“Really?” She asked, seemingly flattered. Sister Michael rolled her eyes.

“No, not really. The woman next to me is eating an egg and onion sandwich, and the smell is enough to turn an Orange March.” The girls cringed at the description. Sister Michael grabbed the suitcase, trying to move it. But she was evidently struggling. “Christ, but this is heavy.”

“Sister, no, let me,” Michelle said, leaning over to grab the case.

“What do you have in here, girls?”

“It’s not ours!” Clare quickly responded with a shriek. Everyone glared at her lie.

“Not yours?”

“We have never seen it before in our lives, have we, girls?” It was better to just agree, so that’s what the girls did. They nodded, giving different mutters of confirmation. 

Sister Michael turned to look at everyone else on the bus.

“Excuse me, everyone. Can I have your attention, please?” She raised her voice to get everyone to listen. Confused, the passengers looked at her while she pointed to Michelle’s suitcase. “Does anyone own this red suitcase?” No one claimed it. “Now, let me be clear. No one can claim this bag, is that correct?” Everyone confirmed her question. She looked down at the suitcase. “I think we have a Code Red on our hands. Driver, pull over!”

***

The girls were definitely fucked. Everyone had to evacuate the bus while they waited for the military to come and extract the suitcase. Now, a crowd watched as a military robot examined the case.

“Jesus Christ!” Clare squeaked in a panic.

“Aye, this isn’t great,” Erin said, watching the commotion. Michelle shrugged.

“It’s not that big a deal.”

“They’re about to blow up an entire suitcase of vodka, Michelle.” 

As Michelle and Erin quietly argued, Y/n leaned into James’ ear.

“And here I thought Clare’s paranoia would be our biggest problem.” James rested his head on Y/n’s, eyeing the situation in front of him in disbelief.

“Why is this place so mental?” He asked. Michelle scoffed.

“That’s enough, James. You have serious fucking anger management issues. Do you know that?” Before anyone could give a rebuttal, there was an explosion. The robot had successfully eliminated the threat in the red suitcase, which was the girls’ ticket to a good time.

There were lots of talks among the soldiers over the radio. The girls silently celebrated when one said they could pack everything up. Soon enough, they’d be back on the way to Belfast.

“Powerful smell of vodka down here, over.” The girls froze in their places as they heard the soldier over the radio. God really did seem to have it out for the teens.

“Vodka, did he say?” Sister Michael asked, slowly turning to her students. “Interesting.” The girls gave her nervous smiles. Suddenly, Y/n pointed over Sister Michael’s shoulder.

“Oh my God, Sister! What’s over there?!” Sister Michael whipped around, and Y/n made a break for it. All of her friends followed after her. 

They ran like hell, not knowing where they were going. After a while of wandering around, they slowed to a walk down a dirt road, all trying to catch their breath. The girls debated whether or not they could reach Belfast on foot, especially with that polar bear on the loose. But the conversation dwindled as some men came into view on the side of the road.

“Is it just me, or is that g*psy an absolute ride?”

“As usual, I think it’s just you, Michelle,” Y/n said, groaning at her sore legs.

“Michelle, you cannot say that.” Erin scolded.

“What?”

“They’re called ‘travelers now. Y’can’t say ‘g*psy’ anymore. It’s insulting.”

“Okay, but you just said it, Erin.” Y/n pointed out. Michelle and Erin continued arguing over the correct word to use for the men. It continued for a while, and only stopped when they had gotten closer to the men.

“Howya, girls.” One of them said, with a bit of a slurred speech. The girls politely greeted him and continued walking. They got a few feet past them when the one who greeted them started calling after them. “Hey, hold on.”

“What does he want?” Clare asked in a panic.

“I don’t know,” Erin replied, just as nervous.

“I’m talking to you!” The man shouted. The girls ignored him, but he kept walking after them. “Hey, are you deaf or what?”

“Just keep going.” Y/n urged her friends, grabbing James’ hand to yank him along while she pushed her tired body to go faster. The teens started walking more quickly, and soon enough, the shouting man and his friends were all tailing after them. 

“Get back here!”

“Faster. Walk faster.”

“Am I gonna have to come after you, am I?”

“Jesus Christ, he’s following us,” James muttered, now being the one to pull Y/n further.

“Run!” Y/n yelped, breaking into a sprint and out of James’ grip because the sudden change in pace had caught him off guard. Everyone ran after her, the teens to catch up with Y/n and the travelers to catch up with the teens. The girls were terrified, except for Orla, of course, who could always find the fun in a fucked up situation.

“Piss off!” Erin went to the edge of the dirt road and came back to the strange men waving a giant stick around. They backed up in alarm, and the girls stopped to stand behind Erin.

Except for Y/n, who was still running like hell. James yelled for her, but she couldn’t hear him over the thumping of her feet and heart. She didn’t even notice that her friends had all been left in the dust behind her.

“Jesus fuck!” Y/n screeched when she was grabbed suddenly by the shoulders and yanked back into someone’s chest. The person who caught her breathed heavily, slightly using her as a crutch. Y/n immediately recognized the whines and groans of exhaustion and smacked the man in the arm. “Scared the fuck out of me, James.”

“I know, ‘m sorry.” James brought her closer to him, back pressed against his chest as he rubbed her arms up and down to comfort her. “Can’t run off like that, love. Could’ve lost you.”

“Sorry.” She apologized sheepishly, and James kissed her head to show she shouldn’t be. When the couple regained strength, they turned around and started walking back to the group that was currently arguing with the strange couple of men when they abruptly ran to the side of the dirt road. A van sped past them as if they weren’t even there, honking the horn and stopping in front of the stand-off of travelers and teenage girls. Y/n and James hesitantly watched, not knowing what was happening.

Soon, Erin stuck her head out from behind the van so her sister was in her view. She waved her over frantically.

“Y/n, come on!” Erin then disappeared, likely into the strange van. Knowing everyone else was probably in there, and not wanting to be left stranded, Y/n broke out into another sprint, leaving James in the dust once again.

“Not again.” He mumbled.

***

When Y/n had snuck away from her family and hopped on a bus to Belfast with her friends, she obviously didn’t expect the bus plan to go to shit, and she and her buddies would be riding around in someone’s van. Yet here she was, jostling around in the back, surrounded by half-assed Take That shirts. Erin was trying to converse with the driver; Rita was apparently her name. Meanwhile, Michelle hogged a cardboard cut-out of Robbie Williams, and Clare and Orla were sifting through all the different merchandise.

“Robie?” Clare said to herself as she held up one of the shirts to look at before frantically digging through the rest of the boxes. In the driver’s seat, Rita seemed to have some type of drunken meltdown. Clare turned to Y/n, panicked like always. “Y/n, what are we gonna do?”

“Pray.”

“She’s spelt ‘Robbie’ wrong on every single t-shirt.”

“Huh?” 

“How are we gonna break it to her?” Y/n snorted. That was not what she expected her dear friend to be worried about.

“Clare, we’re being driven around by some crazy tipsy woman, and I bet she doesn’t even know which direction Belfast is in. And yet you’re worried about a spelling mistake?”

“I find it disturbing.”

“I find your priorities disturbing.” Rita continued talking in her drunken, weepy state, leading to another discussion between Erin and Michelle about the correct label to use for the intimidating men they had run into.

But everything was cut short by the van ramming into something, causing everyone to jerk forward. There was a moment of silence as everyone tried to figure out what had just happened.

“Jesus Christ.” Michelle groaned, rubbing her head as she sat up.

“What was that?” Erin asked no one in particular.

“Did we hit something?” 

Orla opened the sliding door of the van and stuck her head out. Everyone heard a gasp of both surprise and delight.

“Oh my God, it’s the polar bear!” The sentence made everyone, excluding Rita, who smoked her cigarette in the driver’s seat, jump out of the van and surround the body. 

“Orla, this is not a bloody polar bear.” Y/n sneered, looking down at the dead sheep that lay before her feet. Everyone slowly looked over at her.

“You’re soundin’ like James,” Michelle said in slight disgust.

“Shut up.”

“Get it shifted, girls!” Rita commanded from the van, taking another drag. Reluctantly, the girls grabbed the sheep carcass and tried carrying it to the side of the road to clear their path. There was a lot more struggling than they intended.

“Why’s it so heavy?” Erin said with a strained voice. “Aren’t they meant to be ninety percent wool?”

“Just put your back into it. The sooner this is done, the sooner we’re back in the van and on our way to see Robbie.”

“Shut it about Robbie, Michelle!” Y/n groaned, trying to pull the sheep. There was much more arguing, and after a very short while, the girls decided they were officially over this task.

“Fuck this!” Michelle shouted. “Let’s just make James do it, the lazy bastard!” Everyone dropped the sheep on the ground and waited for James to do all the work.

But he never did. It was just the girls on an empty road with a dead sheep and a crazy woman. 

“Wh… Where is James?” Clare asked, looking around, hoping he’d suddenly pop out of a bush or something. 

Y/n thought long and hard. She might have been the last one to be with James. Backtracking to her last known moments with James, Y/n gasped and raised a hand to her mouth. The girls looked at her expectantly, waiting to find out where he was. Her response was an embarrassed and horrified whisper.

“I left him with the travelers.”

***

It took much persuasion, mainly for Michelle, but the girls had gotten Rita to go back for James. It was primarily the revelation that James was the one who had the concert tickets. After a long drive, the van skidded to a stop in front of the traveler’s stands of vegetables and fruits. James was among the men, helping them. Y/n yanked the van door open, relieved that her boyfriend hadn’t been mugged or stranded or something else of the sort.

“James!” She yelled in delight, immediately catching his attention. He grinned but stayed stuck in his place.

“What are you playing at? Get in the van, fucko.” Michelle commanded, less thrilled to see James than Y/n was. The man who first chased the girls put a hand on James’ shoulder.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to, James.”

“With all due respect, this has nothing to do with you.”

“Yeah!” Y/n added, desperately waiting for her boyfriend to get into the van.

“The way you treat this fella, it’s disgraceful.” The traveler reprimanded.

“Fucking excuse me?” Y/n felt beyond insulted.

“What’s going on, James?” Michelle asked.

“Jonjo and the lads…” James looked at said lads with a smile. “They just get me. And it turns out, I’m a really good salesman.”

“He’s a natural,” Jonjo said.

“So, what, you’re a g*psy now?” Michelle asked, clearly thinking this was an unfunny prank.

“Traveler.” Erin and Y/n corrected in unison, Erin louder than her sister.

“Actually, g*psy’s fine,” Jonjo said. Michelle smirked, finally being able to prove to Erin that she was right. Rita yelled at everyone to hurry up, and Michelle nodded.

“Right, get in the van, come on. And do not test me ’cause we’ve already missed PJ and Duncan.”

“Is that who was supporting them?” Clare asked. When confirmed, she pouted. “Oh, I really like them!”

“I’m not leaving, Michelle,” James said with finality.

Y/n sighed, stepping out of the van. The tense gaze James had for his cousin softened when his girlfriend walked up to him.

“Not even for Gary Barlow, Jamie?” Y/n knew she made the right move because now James looked unsure of himself.

“I don’t really rate him as a, as a songwriter, y’know?” Jonjo said. The horrified look James suddenly had painted on his face made Y/n smile, both because she knew that the girls would now be leaving with him and because he looked so adorable. 

James took off his fanny pack and handed it to Jonjo in disappointment, refusing to make eye contact.

“I’m sorry, Jonjo, but you’ve just crossed the line there.” 

Y/n wrapped an arm around James’ back and guided his sad self to the van, where the door was just behind them. She brought him to the back of the van so he could mope a bit in peace. The girls all talked excitedly amongst themselves about the concert.

“I’m sorry I stranded you,” Y/n said quietly, moving her hand down James’ back to squeeze his hand. He squeezed it back and smiled softly down at her.

“I’m just glad you came back.”

“Of course, I came back. You have the concert tickets.” James shoved Y/n away and couldn’t hide the growing grin from hearing her laugh. “Kidding, kidding.”

After a long drive, long lines, and a big fight to get to the barricade, the Derry girls were finally able to enjoy Take That in all its glory. They screamed the lyrics, jumped to the beat, and danced all together in excitement. They didn’t care about the consequences when they would get home to their parents, who were probably worried sick. They didn’t worry about how they’d get home that night. All that mattered was that they were currently in the presence of one of their favorite bands of all time.

Somewhere in the middle of the set, the excitement winded down a bit as a piano intro played. Y/n squealed, tugging on James’ sleeve, as she recognized what was dubbed as her and James’ song, A Million Love Songs. James grinned at her excitement.

“Oh my God! I have something for you!” Y/n exclaimed over the music, digging around in her pockets. James looked down curiously as she brought out a folded piece of paper. “If it’s bad, you’re not allowed to make fun of me.”

“What is it?” James leaned down so he was closer to eye level with Y/n, making her blush. She pinched the edge of the paper, creasing it a bit.

“Do you remember when Erin became magazine editor, and we were going through those essays and… and Michelle found mine?” James nodded, remembering the day clearly because he was devastated when he heard the title of her little essay. “Well, I figured, since it’s our third month together and all… I wanted to give it to you.” He was gentle when taking the paper from her, so incredibly curious about what she had written. “Especially since my fancy isn’t so one-sided as I thought.”

All Y/n could focus on was the beautiful song in the background and the beautiful boy in front of her, reading words that had come straight from her heart when she thought her love for James was just a hopeless crush. She didn’t know if it was a good sign, seeing him become more flustered and blushy as he read on. When he was finished, he slowly and carefully folded the paper back up while Take That started to play a more energetic song.

“Again, you can’t make fun of me if it’s bad!” Y/n shouted over the noise. “I know Erin’s the writer or whatever, but- oof!” She was interrupted by James pulling her to his chest, arms wrapped tight around her and face buried in the crook of her neck. She immediately returned the affections. 

“It’s amazing.” He said in her ear. “Amazing, and lovely, and perfect. Just like the girl who wrote it.” Unable to help herself, Y/n brought James’ face to hers and kissed him with such passion, a passion he reciprocated instantly. It was as if it was only them existing at that moment.

Of course, it wasn’t. Clare would later tease and squeal at the two and interrogate them about when they had finally gotten together and why they didn’t tell her. Too enamored with the men just feet away from them, the rest of the girls didn’t even notice the couple.

And somewhere in Derry, while the rest of her family was fighting, Y/n’s father Gerry smiled fondly at his television where he saw his daughter having the time of her life at a Take That concert with her best friends and boyfriend. A boyfriend he’d absolutely be asking her about in private when he had the chance.

~~~

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[brummiereader]

PREVIOUS PART

A Ghost Of A Man (PART SIX)

Summary: The reader has to make an important decision, will she listen to the old lady's words and follow through on the mysterious way to save Tommy's life?

Warnings: Language, supernatural themes

" I hate him" were the first words that came out of your mouth as you stood outside the old lady's door, unspent tears filling your eyes.

"Oh my dear, come on, come on in" she said knowing you could only be talking about one man." Sit down my lovely, I will make you some tea" she said as she guided you to a small sofa in front of a burning fire.

Sitting down on her floral cushions you looked into the crackling flames, your hands now slowly warming up from the heat of the orange glow.

" Did you walk here?" The old lady said as she sat down next to you handing you a cup of warm tea.

" I missed my bus" you said tearfully, as you took the hot porcelain cup from her. Tea you thought to yourself, the go to remedy for all British emotional ailments, offered immediately when one is in turmoil, it's effectiveness completely useless on you, if only she had something stronger.

" What happened dear?"

" I don't know" you answered, still confused about the nights events. " I went back to the abandoned offices.. I've been visiting Tommy almost everyday ever since, everything had been going fine until tonight" you added as you started to brush away the tears." He was in a mood not long after I got there. Then I told him I had found some information that could help him for when he goes back. And that's when everything changed. He got so angry" you tearfully said as you rubbed one of your sore arms.

" He hurt you?" She asked watching you soothe yourself.

" He was furious with me... I, I don't think he realised how hard he was grabbing my arms" you replied unknowingly defending his actions.

A look of surprise flashed across the elderly ladies face only to be quickly replaced by one of fury, she was deeply angered by Tommy's actions.

" I am so sorry dear, I never thought he would... she said unable to finish her sentence as she let out a defeated sigh. " You have grown close to eachother?" She asked as she took your hand in hers.

" We have...well I mean, I thought we had" you said as you felt comforted by her gentle touch. " I wanted to help him, he took it so wrong. He said that I didn't want him to come back, but that's not true... I don't want him to go" you said completely breaking down, your emotions overtaking you. Sighing the elderly lady held your hand tighter.

" Tommy is a difficult man to deal with at the best of times" she said as she looked out the window into the night sky. " I'm not defending his behaviour dear, but there could be reason why he acted the way he did tonight" she added as she motioned at you to look out the window. "A full moon lights up the sky" she said as she watched you look out the window, confusion on your face as you tried to figure out what she was referring too"

" A full moon?" You questioned not understanding the correlation.

" We are closely connected to the lunar cycle" she said "Spirits even more. During a full moon emotions, feelings, dreams are all amplified. It's powerful in gypsy magic" she added as her aging finger pointed out the window. "The veil between our world and the spirit world is thinner, it leaves room for us to practice the unknown"

" His emotions and feelings. Feelings about what?" You asked naively.

" About you" she said with a smile.

" That man has no feelings" you said defiantly as you took a sip of tea, swallowing it harshly. Darting your eyes across the room you attempted to avoid her stare as she continued to smile at you. She knew you shared those same feelings that had begun to develope in Tommy, whether you had realised it yourself yet, she did not know.

" He will be going back tonight " she said as she looked back at the window patting your hand then letting go as she held onto her necklace." Would you still help him, if you could?" she asked as she stood up and walked over to the old cupboard picking up a black and white photo of a young girl.

" It's too late" you said as you watched her brush her fingers over the picture.

" What if I told you, you could go back?"

" I don't understand" you said as you furrowed your brow.

" Do you remember the first time you was here, I asked if you believed?" She questioned you as she placed the photo frame back down.

" Yes" you quietly responded.

" And now you do?" She asked turning to face you. You shifted in your seat nodding. You did believe, how could you not anymore.

" We are gypsy, Tommy goes back through the use of gypsy magic. You could too? She said sitting back down next to you.

" Go back where?" You asked, feeling increasingly baffled.

" Back to him. Back to 1922?"

A small laugh escaped your lips " What?" You scoffed in confusion as you stood up from the sofa " Look, the realm maybe thin and easily manipulated for him, but I'm not a gypsy, I'm not dead!" you said crossing your arms looking bewildered. Ghosts, spirits the supernatural you had begun to believe, but time travel... this was starting to get ridiculous.

" Gypsy or not, it does not matter. You are connected to him, your souls intertwined. Both drawn to eachother through time and space, don't you feel it...he does" she said standing up as she urgently tried to get to you.

" Look, this has been interesting. Thank you for the tea and for the welcome but I should really get going" you said sighing with laughter, tired having had enough of the disastrous day. " Connected, intertwined" you mumbled under your breath as you walked to the front entrance.

" That gold pocket watch in your coat pocket, connects you" she said reaching her hand out to you just as you went to open her front door. Turning around your eyes widened as you put your hand into your coat pocket, swallowing harshly as you grabbed hold of the small watch. " You need to go back to him Y/N, your running out of time" she said pressingly in fear that you would walk out the door.

" H..how, do you know i have his watch, how do you know my name?" you stuttered out. Walking to you she cupped your face in her hands.

" I have known you my whole life" she said as tears formed in the corners of her eyes.

" Who are you? " You said as you narrowed your eyes. Smiling she let go of your cheeks.

"You don't have much time left Y/N, you need to help him, Tommy needs you. If you don't go to him everythi..." she said panicking, unable to finish her sentence, as she started to lose her balance. Alarmed you quickly held her up, and walked her to the round table in the middle of the room. You held her hand watching the worry in her eyes as she quietly wept. Her words were urgent, like her whole life her whole being depended on it. You felt so sorry for the frail elderly lady that sat before you, her state of distress evidently your fault.

It was morning when you eventually stepped out the old lady's home. You ended up falling asleep on her sofa. You insisted on staying, you was worried about her, worried she would have another dizzy spell. You felt unbelievably guilty that you had been the one to cause her to feel so much distress. She told you what to do the words to say, you politely nodded reassuring her that it was ok, and to not worry. But you could tell she was scared, scared you wouldn't listen to her that you didn't believe her, she repeated the instructions to you over and over again until they were engraved into your memory, insisting that you only had until sunset, the veil being at its thinnest until darkness covered the sky once more.

Walking away from the old ladies house you felt dazed, you didn't know where to go or what to do. If she was right if you could go back to help, did you even want to? He frightened you last night more than he ever had, what had gone so wrong? Walking along the roads you found yourself heading back into town, all of a sudden you recognised where you was. Turning the corner you looked up at the old abandoned offices, you was back. What if she was wrong, what if he was still there, you felt an unbearable urge to find out. Slipping through the fences you apprehensively opened the large wooden door. Taking a deep breath you started walking up the stairs.

" Tommy" you called out as you walked into the empty room. " Tommy!" You called out once again. No response. You nervously walked over to his office, opening the door you frantically scanned the room. His leather chair empty, the smell of tobacco and whiskey no longer filled the voided space, the chilling coldness in the air absent. He was gone. For a moment you just stood there as you looked out the window, your eyes filling with tears as you pulled at your coat sleeves trying to comfort yourself. You may have entered his world and turned it upside down, but he had done just the same to you. Sunlight filled the room as you leaned against the wall, you watched as dust particles floated through the rays of light. Looking down at the old wooden desk something caught your eye as it shined in the glistening sunlight. Walking closer you recognised it immediately. Laying delicately on the old wood was your gold locket. Gasping, you picked it up, tightening your grip around it. He had left it, left it there for you. As tears rolled down your cheeks you opened your hand and looked down at the delicate little locket nestled in your palm, in that moment it felt like time had stopped, your thoughts forever turning like the dials of a clock, until, all of a sudden your feet acting faster than your brain had you walking rapidly to the stairs and out the building. You didn't know if what the old lady said was going to work, you didn't even know if it was true, but you had nothing to lose, you was going to try to go back, back to 1922, back to Tommy.

You figured you had everything you needed already with you, so, you made your way to the location the elderly lady told you to go. Walking along the street you caught your reflection in a window and stopped. You may have looked ok for 2023 but you hardly looked like someone from a hundred years ago. Turning around you headed straight into Birmingham city center. You needed to find an outfit that would not have you sticking out like a sore thumb in Small Heath 1922. With that in mind you made your way to a charity shop in hope to find something more appropriate to wear. You didn't have time to waste so you quickly searched through a rack of clothes. You pulled out a long cotton maroon skirt. You was in luck because the next hanger had its matching jacket. You had a white embroidered blouse at home that you could wear underneath, one less thing for you to worry about. Deciding to forgo a hat, all you needed now was a pair of boots and a bag. After paying, you rushed to an antique shop you often visited in your free time. Heading to the back where they stocked all items of clothing, you browsed through box after box of shoes. Finally, you fell upon a pair of black boots that laced up at the front, one size to small it was going to be an uncomfortable squeeze but you didn't have any other option, picking them up you walked over to the bags. One caught your eye straight away. It was beautiful, dark red with embroidered black flowers, a silver link chain finishing it off. Not even looking at the price you picked it up and made your way to the front desk. Just as you did you walked past a small bag of money, opening it up you realised it was a bag of king George shillings, today's money would be useless in the 1920s, so with that in mind you picked it up and added it to the pile of items already in your arm. Antiques are expensive and you waited patiently cringing internally as the shop worker totaled everything up for you. After paying, you walked out the shop door groaning at the extortionate price you had just paid for three items, you begrudgingly dragged yourself to the bus stop to make your way back home.

Sheepishly walking into your living room you expected to see your friend, but she wasn't there. She must have stayed over a Uni friends house for the night. You felt so guilty that you hadn't texted or called her last night to tell her you wouldn't make it. Pulling out a piece of paper and pen from the kitchen draw you started to write her a note, telling her how sorry you was, and that you would be going away for a while to clear your head. You couldn't exactly tell her your real plan, she would think you had truly lost it. Folding it in half you placed it on the kitchen table as you made your way to your bedroom to get ready. You left your black tights on from the night before and pulled on a white slip that you had found in your cupboard draw. While putting the rest of your clothes on you caught a glimpse of one of your arms. Tommy's red hand print visible on your pale delicate skin, a grim reminder of the night before, sighing you sat down to put your boots on. Not knowing what to do with your hair and now regretting not buying a hat you opened up your vanity draw and pulled out a black ribbon, tying half your hair up with it. Gingerly you walked over to your mirror. " My god, I look like my Nan" you said as you stared wide-eyed at your reflection. Turning around you picked up the small embroidered hand bag and placed the bag of shillings, your gold locket, Tommy's watch and the paper of information on Campbell inside. Walking over to the front door you stopped half-way. " Fuck, I can't go out looking like this" you said aloud running back to your room to throw your long black coat on.

In the bus on your way back to Small Heath, your worries were consuming you. What if this didn't work? What if it did work and Tommy pushed you away again? You had left on such a bad note, what if he was still angry with you? You swallowed sharply as your interlocked your sweaty hands, all of a sudden you had the urge to get off the bus and run back home, your nerves starting to get the better of you, but it was too late.

"Small heath" the conductor called out, startling you. After a few minutes you made your way to the front of the bus.

" Goodbye " you said as you stepped of the bus looking back at him like he was the last person you would see from the modern world ever again. Frowning at the odd girl now standing outside his bus, the conductor closed the doors and drove off, as you made your way down the street.

The roads were quiet this side of Small Heath, turning the corner you saw the panel for where you needed to be. " Small Heath Cemetery". Fitting, you thought when the elderly lady first told you your destination, you couldn't help but think you was going to your death. Her reasoning was, it was the quietest place in town, you didn't want to end up appearing in someone's front room all of a sudden while they were having their dinner. Walking up the hill you slowly opened the rusty metal gate as you then made your way up the the graveled path. You looked up at the graying sky above you, the swaying leafless branches creaking in the wind set your senses alive as you listened intently. Stopping you started to feel sick, something didn't feel right, you felt like someone was watching you. Glancing around at the eerie setting, you watched as dried leaves tumbled along the ground, slowly coming together in a heap alongside a large gray tombstone. All of a sudden the metal gate swung open crashing against the fence next to it, startling you. Turning around you expected to see someone there, but the path was empty. A large gust of wind then passed through you, pushing you forward further up to the top of the cemetery..." Go child" you heard a woman whisper in your ear in a voice you did not recognise, you spun around panicked, something was here. Stumbling you walked forward, clutching your coat around you as heat rose in your fearful face. You came to a stop as you took out Tommy's pocket watch from your bag. A chill encircled you, someone was walking around you observing your every move, waiting for you to take the next step. With shaking hands you took off your long black coat and placed it behind an old wooden bench. Holding Tommy's watch in your hand you tried to turn the small knob, but your uncontrollable shivering was making the task impossible, that was until you felt a cold pressure over your thumb, you watched on in astonishment, as the dials under the glass turned the time to 19h22, what was happening?, was it Tommy?...it couldn't be, it was a woman's voice you heard. You tried to remember the words the old lady told you, but your fear and nerves of whatever was beside you was making you uneasy. "Take me there to where I wish..." you heard the gentle voice whisper once again. Snapping your heard up to nothing you started to panic, was your mind playing tricks on you in your altered state of fear? Swallowing harshly you closed your eyes and thought of Tommy, in a shaky voice you said the words,

"Take me there to where I wish, I give my hand, I won't resist.

Withhold my soul and deliver me forth, to a time from once before.

Now heed these words, and hear me clear, send me back to whom i hold so dear"

A flash of light appeared in front of your eyes. A woman was standing before you, her dark curled hair pinned up away from her face, a fur coat covering her shoulders. Your eyes focused in as you started to make out her features, before you could move closer she reached out her hand and pushed you backwards onto the grass...

" Go to him "

NEXT PART

Tag list: @theshelbyclan @babayaga67 @sysymei @nataliewalker93 @cherryslycee @globetrotter28

[sophieswundergarten]

@nobody33333333, and, I guess, anyone else who's interested

Okay, so, I promised I'd do this and I've been feeling guilty about it ever since

HOWEVER

The issue is that my brain is telling me I need to do this, but also that I need to have the book right next to me so I can be as factually correct as possible

SO

In the interest of fulfilling my promise in a timely manner and also circumventing my OCD brain loop, I'm going to force myself to do this right here and now without fact checking! (Yay?)

Thus, without further ado, I present:

Sophie's Real Bad Summary of the rest of The Sofa Book!!

(There are gonna be mistakes, guys, it's been like two years since I read it last)

So, where we left off, River was talking to the sofa during a dream. He wakes up, and enters the house with Freak and Fiona.

They find a note directing them to a specific door (Bit of MBS out-of-the-box riddling there), and they find Alf!

He's dressed eccentrically on purpose to appear non-threatening to the kids (It doesn't work), and immediately accepts the sock and things back, but he gives the coin to Freak and domino to River.

He then snaps the crayon and explains that it was a decoy. (He has the real one safe) He created it because there are very few Zucchini crayons in the world, and there is a very specific person he's trying to find who wants the crayon. This person Alf is looking for is his father, Edward Disin! Disin tried to take over Indorsia and was executing people left and right, so an agent (Who was subsequently beheaded) infected him with a sort of "compulsive collecting disease", and Alf purposefully led him through a portal to earth carrying the last crayon necessary to complete his set: the Zucchini colour.

(Also, Disin owns the tech company, the food brand, and the chemical plant. He's very suspicious)

He explains that he wants the kids' help in capturing Disin because Indorsians live centuries and so they underestimate the children as inexperienced babies. Alf also explains that the sofa was originally part of a larger set of furniture that functioned as a kind of "brain" for this AI, which is known as Guernica.

This is because the AI speaks through a "painting" that's actually just a huge, framed computer screen. Part of the memory/brain was lost when the hassock (One of those footstool/container things) tragically died in a fire.

At any rate, Alf has to leave for a moment to battle some raccoons out of the kitchen with a tennis racket, and Guernica reveals that she's actually a lot more sentient than Alf knows. She explains that Alf is trying his best, but he's hiding things from the kids because he doesn't feel like telling them everything will help the already muddled situation . He also doesn't want to worry them.

Alf comes back and Guernica stops talking. Alf shows then satellite images or something he has of what appear to be dogs. They are not dogs. They are Disin's Very Sneaky Evil Henchmen (Sadly, they aren't really as funny as the Ten Men. And they're more likely to shoot people). They're called Doghats because they wear big hats that make them look like dogs to any overhead cameras, and they each have a code name of their corresponding dog breed.

Fiona is upset because a few dog hats are trying to break into her house, likely in an attempt to steal the crayon, and her little brother is home alone.

Alf has Guernica hack into Fiona's mom's computer and start playing the French(?) National anthem very loudly, which scares the Doghats away.

The kids then leave to try and decide what to do.

On their way, River stops to knock on a different door in a pattern revealed to him in the dream. It turns out to be a room full of pictures and odd notes and a suspect board. (Also the sofa! Freak refuses to believe it tessered but there it is) A lot of the pictures and notes are about them, which is concerning. We also learn here that Fiona is fully colorblind (achromatopsia), most likely because of Rodmore's chemical leaks or whatever.

The kids decide to climb a laundry shute/vent thing to see if they can eavesdrop on Alf in his study.

Through this they discover that the agent who infected Disin with the collectors disease was actually Alf's sister Miranda. Her mind has been saved in Guernica's computer system, but Alf is suggesting they let her take over Fiona's body so she can be human again. Miranda vehemently disagrees with this plan.

But, before the kids can hear anything else, they are chased out of the house by a maniacally laughing axe-weilding granny ghost.

The kids end up deciding to help Alf, and so they set about preparing Underhill house to be the place where a real live auction for the crayon will be held.

At some point, the sofa eats Fiona's phone and she gradually adjusts to not having it (In a slightly concerning manner implying she was addicted to just... having it on her at any given time), and she stops participating in the flash mobs.

The kids decide to sneak into Rodmore Chemical to see if they find any more clues.

This requires them to cross Hellsboro. After a few close calls nearly falling in the coal seam fire sinkholes (Which, apparently is something Freak risks all the time), they reach the building.

There, they explore and find some weird tech and a huge crystalline ice wall thing. As they are investigating a conference room, they hear Doghats coming, so they hide in the hazmat suits hanging from the wall.

Several Doghats enter, and start a video meeting with an angry man who's avatar is a dog that quickly morphs into a wolf as he berates his agents for failing. He them releases this specifically rutabaga colour gas that wipes their minds and leaves their bodies free for him to download more henchmen into. (Concerning)

The wolf man then reveals he knew the kids where there all along, and tries to trick them into taking off the hazmat suits. Luckily, they don't, and Fiona notes that the man must be far away because there's a delay in his response to them, due to the signal having to bounce off a satellite.

Wolf man threatens them, and the kids try to escape as more Doghats show up. This situation climaxes in them being on top of the building, needing to cross a very thin wire to another building's roof so they can escape. This is an issue not for all the obvious reasons, but also because a strong wind is going to blow through in a few minutes and if and of the kids are still on the wire it'll snap.

Freak makes it across alright, but Fiona is so petrified River has to help/carry her. At this point, the domino in River's pocket reveals itself to be another part of Guernica. It starts speaking and trying to help, but is quickly taken over by Alf's sister Miranda.

Miranda tells Fiona the whole story of how her father is an evil tyrant and why it's so important they stop him, and this keeps Fiona from flailing long enough for River to get them to safety. The kids return to their neighborhood and being questioning the domino, but because of an incident at the chemical plant with a mouse, Fiona's little brother's cat, Mucus ("Mew-Kiss"), steals the domino and runs off with it.

They also learn somewhere during this that the flash mobs are practice runs on the mind control being implanted by the food and phones and such distributed by Disin Corp. This is going to be used to enslave humanity for Disin's shipyards one he opens a portal to Indorsia that will let all of his military forces through.

At any rate, the kids finish setting up the house for the auction and Alf has purchased two hot air balloons (I did check my book here, but just for you, Bods). One is a replica of the "STATE FAIR OMAHA" balloon from The Wizard of Oz, and the other is a giant toilet. These are set up around the house as an attempt to keep Disin from escaping via helicopter.

The auction begins, and Alf has some government agents there to help aprehend the bad guys. The kids are outfitted as waiters, and they have serving trays with DNA identification built in so they'll light up in reaction to Disin. The auction continues with no sign of Disin, but when someone wins and it's time to hand off the crayon one of the government agents reveals himself to be Disin!! Gasp

Disin grabs the crayon and also Fiona as a hostage and takes off in the Omaha balloon. Freak and River chase after him in the toilet balloon. Now, the issue with all of this (Besides the obvious) is that Disin also stole the remote that can drop the bottoms of both balloon baskets.

While they manage to avoid dying by that, they do kind of set the balloon on fire.

They chase Disin to the Rodmore Chemical building, where they find that the ice wall is actually a portal, and there is a big net preparing to catch all the tanks and things Disin is commanding to Earth.

Also, at this point, River dies

The Doghats have these... water guns, filled with the lethal liquid "Hista mime". If it gets on you, you suffocate silently, believing you're trapped in a glass box.

This has not a lot to do with how River dies. I just forgot to say earlier and thought that the interjection helped replicate the way the story is told in book format.

Anyway, Disin has River killed by gassing him with that rutabaga stuff so they can download Greeves Stainer, notorious Indorsian assassin into his body.

The next chapter is a bit of an aside where River complains about books where the narrating character dies and has a dream-world picnic with his parents. (Who are dead. Did I mention that? It's taking a lot of brainpower to make this post without checking the book every five seconds. At any rate, River's parents are dead because they were in a car crash orchestrated by Disin because they found out about his evilness and were going to report him. River was also in the car (He was a small child at the time), but survived with only minimal damage to one leg, causing it to be slightly shorter than the other and giving him a limp)

BUT

Alf has a cloning pod in his basement. It uses the DNA that the sofa harvested when he stabbed himself on that fishhook at the beginning of this mess to clone him because he was designated the most mathematically like to die. This body does not have a limp.

River creates a quick make-shift poncho out of a garbage bag and races back to Rodmore. There, he finds the newly downloaded Stainer in his (River's) old body. He brains the guy with a chair and steals his(?) clothes back, then heads out and pretends to be Stainer.

Climax of dramatic threats, yada yada, Disin and one of his guys fall over the railing, and as the Indorsian tanks and things start to come through Freak drops the double-headed coin because, apparently, being double headed makes it a bomb. River reveals his identity as not an assassin, and the kids tighten the safety net thing so much it rubber bands the invading forces right back through the portal before it closes up.

Disin has disappeared, as does the mostly amnesiac and definitely brain damaged Stainer, and the kids head back with Alf.

Also! Freaks dad (Who was previously hinted at the be an alcoholic and possibly a worse father than Show Curtain (It's mostly "off screen")) comes over sobbing and saying that while a social worker visited that afternoon and told him to get his act together, what really motivated him was the sign he saw later that afternoon for where his life was headed if he didn't change some stuff sharpish: A giant fiery toilet in the sky. Also, Mucus gives the Guernica domino back

OKAY

I MAY (Read: "Absolutely") GOTTEN THE TIMELINE WRONG, BUT HERE WE ARE

(Also, they couldn't just clone Miranda a new body because the only remaining piece of her DNA was in Indorsia. I felt that was important to add)

PLEASE FEEL FREE TO CORRECT ME IF I'VE GOT STUFF WRONG

THIS ACCOUNT HAS TAKEN ME HOURS TO WRITE OUT. BUT REALLY WANTED TO FOLLOW THROUGH.

ALSO MY BRAIN IS VERY TIRED FROM FIGHTING THE BRAIN WORMS, GOODNIGHT FOLKS!

[yelenasdiary]

“Ever wonder if the world would be better without you…?” With wanda Maximoff x reader pretty please

-🐚

Drunken Thoughts

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader (Platonic)

Summary: After another one of Tony’s parties and a few drinks later, you found yourself letting a thought slip to your closest friend. 

Angst | Comfort | Mentions of Drinking | Depression | Dark Thoughts | 0.8K |

AC: Thank you for sending this, I hope you enjoy & I also hope it’s okay I made this a platonic fic! X

The night was finally over, another one of Tony's parties with a little too much socializing and pretending to listen to topics that you could care less about. Wanda was sitting on the sofa in the compounds living room when you entered the room finishing off your drink and placing the empty glass in the skin. 

"Y/n, come over here" Wanda smiled softly. She noticed over the last few weeks that you've been a little distant and off with everything and she couldn't help but keep a close eye on you. Wandering over to her, you slumped yourself down next to her and placed your head on her shoulder. "What's on your mind?" she asked. 

"Nothing" you replied in a soft tone, but Wanda already knew that was a lie and you knew better than to lie to a mind reader. 

"Shall we try that again?" Wanda placed a hand on your knee as you sighed. "I don't know…do you ever just, you know?" you spoke. Wanda shook her head, "ever just what?" she questioned. 

"Ever wonder if the world would be better without you…?" You looked up at her. Wanda turned to you while you lifted your head off her shoulder, "what's this about?" She asked. 

"I just, I don't know…. lately I've been thinking about a world without me and if I'm being honest….it seems the world would be fine. Nothing would change and I'm not sure why I even stay" you explained, letting your built-up thoughts spill. Wanda listened carefully, hurting on the inside knowing that her friend was feeling so low. 

"You're wrong about all of that, you know that, right?" She broke the silence, "you mean a lot more to the world than you see. You're apart of this family and every single time you go in a mission, you're changing the world. I know being an Avenger isn't easy and it has its cons but look at the pros. Look at the good we've done, how many people we have saved but most importantly, look at how many people you've saved" she added while looking into your eyes hoping her words were sinking in. 

"Yeah, I help save people I've never met before, and I'll never know them. Once upon a time I felt amazing that I was helping people in such a way but now? It's nothing new" you replied with a sigh. 

"Did you know that you're the glue that holds all of us together? You're the one who is able to make us smile on the darkest days, the one who lets us know you're always there for us not matter what time or where we are. While you think the world better without, my world would not be better and I can promise you that everybody else would agree with me" Wanda replies with a stern voice that was full of comfort. 

Her words took you back for a moment, were you so foolish to actually think that nobody would think twice if you left this earth for the afterlife? Through all the dark thoughts you'd been having, it was near impossible. Every time you thought of something positive the little voice in your head came up with a way to make you believe that the world would be better off without you, that you meant nothing and nobody around you truly cared.

But here you were, sitting in front of your best friend who was on the edge of tears hoping her words got through to you, even if it was just for a moment. You knew leaving her would break her and suddenly you began to think about the others and how Wanda was right, their world would not be better without you. They are your family, the only family you truly knew and as much as you'd been there for them through thick and thin, they were there for you. 

Even though your mind told you they didn't care, you didn't see how they made sure you were hydrated and eating, making sure you still went to training and not saying a word if you weren't giving it your all, offering to run small errands for you and still inviting you to things even if they knew you'd say no. The small things they did for you showed you just how much you truly mattered to the team. 

Then, suddenly, it hit you, the party Tony threw was for you. A fundraiser to help wildlife in need of serious help. If you had of noticed this detail earlier, maybe you wouldn't have tried to drown your thoughts with the free alcohol that went straight onto Tony's tab. 

"I h-honestly didn't think of things like that" you replied, tears of your own filling your eyes. Wanda pulled you in for a tight hug, "I know sweetheart but it's okay. Our thoughts can get the best of us sometimes but you're so much stronger than you think, I wish you'd come to me when things start to get bad. I never want you to feel like you're alone, ever!" She speaks as she rubs your back, letting you cry into her arms. 

It was then that you knew that you'd make a change and you knew that your family would always be there for you, no matter what. 

Taglist: @red1culous | @sayah13 | @charl-lally | @when-wolves-howl | @bentleywolf29 | @fxckmiup | @lissaaaa145 | @high--power | @parkerdaramitzzzz  | @mmmmokdok | @wackymcstupid | @kiwiana145 | @observeowl | @nattyolw | @ripofflizzie | @goofy-goonie | @makegoodchoices | @wandsmxmff | @apollo2907 | @wandaroman0ff | @dumb-fawkin-bitch | @lovelyy-moonlight | @santana1437 | @fluffyblanketgecko | @puta1 | @inluvwithfictionalwomen | @tintedrose12 | @jaymieflorissssssss | @tita001 | @lizzieslcver | @youralphawolf72 | @donnietarantino | @natashamaximoff69 | @hehehehannahthings | @pandaemonium111 | @secrettoallofyou | @romantic-slaps-on-the-asss | @marvel-fan-2021 | @mmmmokdok | @riveramorylunar | @ripofflizzie | @marvel-madnessx | @scarsw1fe | @toldthatdevil | @itsmv3 | @natashaswife4125 | @katiemay-025 | @aphrcdtes | @romanoffs-widow | @maria-403 | @boredandneedfanfics | @wandamaximoffspuppup | @xox-little-troublemaker-xox | 

[lordystrange]

10 best byler proofs by me

10. The cast, especially David (who knows the ending) and Finn (who might know something), are always so happy talking about Byler. They wouldn’t be if Will ended up dying alone as a sad gay. Also no one likes milkvan except maybe Millie unless she’s acting… Caleb even said ”Lucas and Max’s love is real unlike Milkvan’s”.

9. Mike has been queercoded throughout the whole series. Especially with queer colors, he spent s4 dressed as a gay pride flag. Also bi and pan colors are associated with him. Also Ted’s ”our son with a girl?” and everything Eddie said about forced conformity etc

8. Byler parallelling other romantic ships like Jancy, Jopper and Lumax. I’m not listing examples because there are SO MANY! (Also Milkvan parallelling all the platonic/dead ships)

7. Mileven being bones. We have nothing that shows their actual, deep love they’re ”supposed to have”. We don’t know what Mike loves about El and what El loves about Mike. We don’t know what makes them a compatible match romantically. We only know things that don’t make them compatible: El feeling the need to lie to Mike, Mike feeling embarrassed of his nerdy self with El, El feeling unloved by Mike, Mike feeling inferior to El…

6. The desert scenes. The triple take ofc, but also the car roof top convo with Will (jancy parallell). Will is talking about how it’s scary to say how you really feel because what if they don’t like the truth. And Mike NODS. If the truth was that he loved El exactly like El wanted, El would like that truth. So what is the truth Mike is worried that El doesn’t like…?

5. Mike’s monologue. He had to be pushed by Will to open his mouth. He lied about him loving her at first sight. He copied the t-shirt part from Eddie. He kept saying she’s his superhero which El doesn’t wanna be. He didn’t include anything personal about El and their relationship after the t-shirt thing… Also El didn’t seem to like what she heard and their love didn’t save the world. And they didn’t even talk after it. And while filming it they didn’t focus on just the couple (like they did with byler in s2 shed scene) and they let Finn improvise as if it wasn’t that important (as important as the van scene…)

4. Mike would be so poorly written if he wasn’t into Will and I don’t think the Duffers would just ignore his character. Also all the lip glances and heart eyes wouldn’t make sense.

3. Byler/Milkvan contrast. When Will was gone and they found his ”body”, Mike heard Will breathing in a radio channel and believed he was alive. He didn’t rest for a second, he did everything he could to find him. When he thought El was dead, he didn’t go looking for her, even tho a couple times he actually saw her. Also in s3 when Milkvan had a fight, Max said Mike will be crawling back to her begging for forgiveness in no time. Instead Mike laid on a sofa and ate and complained. When Byler had a fight… well we all know what Mike did then.

2. Mike and Will’s relationship has always been different from other friendships. They’ve said it themselves (”pls don’t tell the others, they wouldn’t understand”, ”Hawkins is not the same without you”, ”you make her me feel better for being different”). Also their scenes together have always been a big deal (van scene took an entire day to film, crazy together was written before s1 was even filmed) and they are shot in a really romantic way (music, lighting…)

1. In the beginning of s3, Will said to Joyce that he’s not gonna fall in love. That made his arc about romance. We know now that he already fell in love, but he doesn’t believe it’s requited. If s5 goes from ”i don’t think he loves me back” to ”he doesn’t love me back” we get literally nowhere and the entire storyline (since s1) would be useless and waste of time and money. They wouldn’t make Will suffer 4 seasons and then suffer some more. So believe me when I say it goes ”I don’t think he loves me back” to ”He does love me back!”

I wish you all a very merry byler endgame in s5! 💚

[larosepompon]

The Midnight Library

You're not quite sure who owns the Night Library in town, and you didn't think you'd ever find out... Insomnia. Hardly anyone’s favourite thing. It had been something that you had battled with since starting to work late into the night, your body not knowing what to do with itself. You knew well that copious amounts of screen-time weren’t doing you any favours (and neither were the extra shots of espresso that you used to keep you awake) but what else was there to do besides read at home or risk taking an extended walk on the city streets between one and four am. It was one of these nights after your shift had finished around twelve, that lost in your thoughts you took a different route home. Past the brightly-lit bars thriving with a hum of patrons and a few restaurants coming to their close, the busy streets gave way to a gradual influx of small boutiques and houses. In one side road however, you stumbled across a quaint little Victorian townhouse with a storefront underneath – lit up by ornate spot lamps curled over the sign. “The Midnight Library”

You read aloud, breath hanging slightly in the air with the early Autumn chill. You were so weary and it looked ever-so inviting with it’s rounded bay window, dressed with a pretty little display of select titles one could find inside. As you breached the entryway, signalled by a tinkling bell, a mop of brown hair popped up behind the counter. A young man with owlish eyes and a pair of black-rimmed glasses regarded you for a few seconds before giving a quiet Hello. He almost looked surprised that you had come in. “Sorry, we barely get anyone in on a Wednesday – welcome to the night library. I haven’t seen your face here before; did you just find us?” His voice was soft and a little worn around the edges. “Yeah, I had no idea this was here – I’m glad there’s somewhere I can go to unwind to be honest.” A gummy smile broke out on his face as you spoke. “Well please, make yourself at home. There’s plenty of comfy seating. We only ask that you handle the books with care, as many of them are quite old.” With that, you traipse down the isles of shelves and find that there were two rooms to the cosy place – the room at the back was separated by an alcove, books lining every wall save for a door in the corner. It really gave off the feel of a converted home. Your fingers traced over spines of books both fact and fiction, eventually settling on an old edition of Alice Through the Looking Glass. The brown-haired boy was writing something at the counter as you passed him, choosing to sit on the maroon Oxford sofa near the window. Getting engrossed in a quiet world of your own, you had no grasp on how quickly the time had passed, jumping slightly when he called out to you gently.

“Sorry to disturb you but we need to lock up.” He held his hands in front of him, giving you a wry smile. “Did reading help?”

“Excuse me?”

“With helping you unwind – you seemed to be in need of it?” he cocked his head, gesturing to the sheer amount of chapters you had gotten through. You nearly balked seeing that you had somehow gotten through three-quarters of the book in a few hours. “Clearly.” You paused. “What time is it?” glancing around to see if there was a clock in sight. “its just gone four. Did you want me to save you the book for next time?” Nodding wearily, you got up and smoothed down your clothes before handing the old book over to him.

“I’m Jongho by the way.”

Jongho - as it turned out - merely looked after the library most nights, giving you a sharp laugh when you asked if he owned the place. Me? The owner?! God, no. I just work here he had rebuked, stating he hadn’t the time nor money to amass a collection as grand as this one. As you lay in bed that morning, you found that sleep came a little easier.

You ended up returning there the following night and then the next, the warm and cosy atmosphere along with malty scent of yellowing pages drawing you in time and time again. Often you’d make conversation with Jongho when it was just you both, nodding and giving polite smiles whenever other readers would pop in. One night, when the quiet side street was strewn with fallen orange leaves, you peered over at the reams of paper haphazardly littering the counter (and a laptop in its midst). Jongho’s hair was a tousled mess, his glasses pushed back up onto his head while he pinched the bridge of his nose. “You ok there?” He looked up at you with dark circles under his eyes, seemingly stressed to the max.

“My dissertation is due in two days.” Jongho ground out. His shoulders visibly sagged when he sighed, opting to sit down and try to re-arrange documents. “Ouch. No wonder you seem stressed out. What do you study?” you lean on the mahogany of the counter and sip on the mug of tea he gave you, watching him get himself in order. “Medieval Literature and Languages.” There’s a faint rosiness to his cheeks as he quietly tells you about it all. “I think you’re working in a great place for it – with all these books at your disposal, I’m sure a few of them could aid your studies.” You’re smiling at him over the rim of your mug and catch a small glint in his eye. “Actually, there’s more useful resources than you might think…”

There was one chair you were always drawn to. Its back high and slotted neatly into a corner. A cosy nook surrounded by extra piles of books that had yet to be put away and a gas fireplace that gifted you its warmth and extra light. The seat plush and comfy, it softly gave under your weight as you settled into its embrace – the reupholstered olive velvet felt wonderful wherever your skin touched.  Resting a moment before starting the little romance tale, you studied its faded and woven cover, art and typography very reminiscent of the 1920s in all its Art Deco beauty. Perfect.

It was nights like these where you would get lost in the worn and savoury-scented pages of the old books that the Midnight Library had to offer. It was nights like these where, as your glistening eyes pored over texts from another time, your subtle changes in expression and the occasional wistful sigh were being curiously peeked at between gaps in the long bookcases. o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

You first spot his dark hair; locks of it obstructed by books on the shelves, soft waves being jostled as he moves to rearrange volumes. While you can’t quite see his face, you notice ghostly pale hands with elegant rings adorning a few fingers. Returning to your book for all but a moment, getting comfy in your favourite chair, by the time your eyes flit up to the same spot – the mystery person has vanished without a trace.

That’s...odd...

 You decide not to take heed of it until it happens again a few times more in the coming week and a quiet eeriness unnerves you. With the building being so old, you don’t doubt the possibility of it having some ghostly activity however it isn’t anything that you have personally experienced before.

Should you ask Jongho? Or would he think you’re going a bit crazy?

The leather-bound novel snaps shut in your hands and you take a glance at the clock on the far wall. Quarter-past three it reads. With your concentration broken, your feet take you back on over to the front desk where a very tired and familiar boy sups on some coffee. He straightens as he sees you, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. “Y/n, how can I help? Need any recommendations?” he asks with his usual, friendly tone. Lacing your fingers together atop the book you lean on the counter, levelling your gaze with his. “Is this place...haunted?” Your voice tries not to waver, though it comes out not more than a whisper. Jongho’s lips quirk at the corners as he tries to bite back a laugh. He clears his throat in attempt to regain composure. “What makes you say that? Don’t tell me you saw a ghost.” His disbelief makes you start to peel away but he grabs your wrist lightly while he chuckles for you to stay. “Sorry, sorry – what did you see? I won’t laugh, I promise.” Letting you go, he settles back down as he looks to you sorting your thoughts.

“I’ve seen them a few times now – just glimpses, mind you. I think it’s the apparition of a man, with kinda-long, dark hair and they have super pale hands-.” This time Jongho does burst out laughing, cutting you off. A gummy grin on his face that’s quickly hidden by his hands. “Oh my God that’s the owner. It’s not a ghost at all, it’s my boss you’ve been seeing.” Your mouth hangs slightly open while you stand there, dumbfounded.

“He’s that much of a recluse? He hasn’t ever said hello, in fact I can’t really remember him making a sound other than organising books.” Your mind wanders back to the three or four times you’ve noticed him. The boy grimaces slightly before replying “he’s a bit eccentric, if you will, but he means no harm. His greatest treasure are his books, so he doesn’t bother many of our customers.” Nodding slowly, you take your book off the desk and hold it between both your hands. "What’s his name? In case I see him again.” Jongho is quick to reply. “Ah -he doesn’t like me giving out his name. Though I’m sure he’ll warm up to you soon enough!” At least he sounded positive about it.

It takes a further three weeks but sure enough, the mysterious library owner finally introduces himself. Unruly Autumn weather meant that you had gotten caught in a sudden downpour, rivulets of rainwater rolling off your hair and face as you stepped into the respite of The Midnight Library. Jongho looks at you with wide eyes and passes you a box of tissues to try and dry off what you can. “Jesus – forgot your umbrella?” you give him the best glare you can muster as you remove your soaked coat to pop on the rack. Mopping your strands with copious amounts of tissues, you heave a sigh.

“I’m going to sit by the fire, is anyone else in?” it was a little past 1am and with the cold rain outside you had expected the place to be busy. Jongho shook his head slowly, returning to his textbook. “Just the boss and me tonight.” Your lips parted in thought, taking the current book Jongho had saved for you, you quietly plod over to your favourite spot by the fire in attempts to dry off and warm up. You’re about 4 chapters in when a deep voice startles you out of your reverie.

“-I thought you could use some tea” you gasp and whip your head up towards the voice, not expecting anyone to be there. You end up face to face with one of the most beautiful men you’ve ever seen – scarily beautiful in fact. So poised and pristine, holding a bone china cup of tea in his very pale hands.

“Oh...thank you so much. That’s very kind.” He delicately hands it over to you with a small, close-lipped smile and you offer him a nod. “Are you the owner that Jongho keeps mentioning?” trying to make small talk to break the slight unease you feel, you take a sip –

Chamomile.

“Ah yes, sorry that was rude of me. I’m Yeosang, it’s lovely to meet you. Jongho tells me you’ve become somewhat of a regular?” His smile deepens and softens his statuesque beauty. You take a moment to really look at him; your eyes tracing his features from his sculpted brow, the gentle slope of his nose to his prominent yet delicate birthmark that only adds to his charm. All framed by a luscious head of hair. The one thing that you can’t get over are his dark eyes. The way his eyes seem to bore into your very soul, unblinking, like that of a marble statue.

Does this guy ever blink?

He blinks.

...It’s as though he just remembered he needs to.

“I guess I have” you answer airily. It’s difficult to break away from his eye contact. “It’s been just over two months I think, since I’ve started coming here. It’s so cosy.” Your voice gets a little quieter the more you speak and you watch Yeosang blink slowly in front of you. He looks away first, gesturing to the little room and you can’t help but feel a bit relieved. “Well, please feel free to ask for any book you like, I’ve collected them over many years. They’re my treasure.” He clasps his ring-laden hands in front of him. You can’t help but smile at that, he looks so fond of everything that he’s amassed. “I look forward to seeing more of you, Y/n. Goodnight.” After wishing him the same, you watch him elegantly glide off from whence he came.

It was only after he was gone that you realised you never gave him your name. Perhaps Jongho had told him. While Yeosang seemed kind and polite, there was this strange little warning in the back of your head, alerting him as a threat. Sure he was a little odd, and looked sickly-pale...

And didn’t really blink...

Oh.

You wondered if it’d be appropriate to ask Jongho about him. o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

The second time you meet, he and Jongho are in a debate over the nuances of Shakespeare’s poetry, both hunched over a very old book, which they handle with white gloves. They’re both side by side as they talk animatedly and you can’t help but notice the slight inflection in Yeosang’s voice, a little softer and higher-pitched than what you remember. He and the student look like quite the pair; his slightly oversized, ivory shirt tucked into neat tailored trousers being the picture of elegance while the uni student sported a black hoodie with ripped jeans. You cleared your throat softly behind them, holding your handbag coyly behind your back.

The moment the owner turned to face you, you felt your heart skip a beat. As he greeted you, you were graced with a smile that was breathtaking. Pearly-whites on show and cheeks lifted, his eyes had a soft twinkle in them, spirits high from parting his book knowledge to a fellow scholar. The more you found yourself the focus of his gaze, the more a strange feeling settled over you. “Welcome back, y/n. It’s good to see you.” The playful lilt in his voice present even as he spoke to you. There’s a hello from Jongho in the background yet it seemed so distant and fuzzy in the presence of the owner in a way you can’t explain.

“Yeosang” you try out the syllables on your pink tongue, slower than you’d like. “-Jongho, too. Hi”  it’s like a foggy stupor has settled across your brain, thoughts a little gooey like wading through treacle. Jongho casts a look of uncertainty towards his boss, an inkling into what might be happening. Time slows for you and your mind is full of cotton, as if the odd library owner has placed wads of it there piece by piece.   You're far too gone to notice the pair fretting over your state for a while, neither of them knowing the best course of action…

The moment you feel yourself blink slowly awake, you’re being read to quietly - head in Yeosang’s lap with his elegant and tepid fingers gently stroking your hair. The rows of leather and cloth-bound books returning, albeit blurrily, to greet your vision. Your lungs take a deep inhale and your heartbeat quickens in confusion. Yeosang’s hand stops for a moment to tuck a few stray strands behind your ear.

“I think I owe you an apology” he murmurs softly. “It’s why I usually make myself so scarce, it’s…not always something I can control completely.” His voice you find so soothing and melodic, merely offering a hum of acknowledgement in return. You know in the depths of your brain that his cryptic confession should be something alarming, yet you can’t find it in you to be scared. He seemed so vulnerable when he spoke, seeking trust and confidence.

Instead, you take another deep breath and smile – he smells of dried petals and old, malted pages. Comforting.

“Yeosang? May you read to me some more? I’ll gladly accept your apology then...” His hand stilled amongst your tresses; mouth slightly ajar in surprise as he heard your reply. Every now and then in his long life did he come across those who were readily accepting of his nature and did so in stride; they were few and far between, however. The librarian’s gaze focused on your relaxed profile - the way your eyelashes fluttered against the top of your cheeks with every run of his fingers through your hair. A small smile came to his lips, before continuing to read.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o The third time you met him came as a surprise. It had been a good few weeks since he had read to you on the chaise and he seemed to have gone into hiding since. It was eleven pm on a bitterly cold Thursday, Jongho and yourself sitting by the fire with takeaway cups of coffee you managed to snag from a restaurant nearby. A few nights ago you had asked if Jongho could bring in his dissertation for you to read. One very shy and pouty “yes” later – he’d agreed somewhat reluctantly. Though he was initially hesitant, as you sat beside the warm fireplace the uni student was nothing but animated as he explained certain parts of his writing with enthusiasm. You both were going back and forth between the pages together when suddenly he pulled one of the sheets from your hands a bit too quickly, slicing your finger by accident.

You gasped softly, not only from the slight sting but from the owner appearing less than a foot away from you, unblinking eyes concentrated firmly on the deep red droplet swelling atop your finger. You felt your heart quicken - his presence came in as quickly and quietly as lightening and it made your mind confused.

“... Yeosang?...” the tightness in your lungs from your anxiety made his name come out no louder than a whisper.

Gaze still focused on your injury, Yeosang tilted his head in interest, indicating he had at least heard you. Snapping out of his trance with a sharp inhale and a subtle shake of his head, the owner offered a tight-lipped smile in your direction. “Gosh…we really must treat that for you. Let me go get those little plasters from the kitchen.” Even with an audible swallow, the sudden dryness of your throat persisted. Jongho remained silent, his eyes looking everywhere but your own. Definitely, he was party to Yeosang’s odd habits. You watched as the owner slinked off through the door in the corner, trying to glimpse him raiding through the cupboards for a first aid kit. By now the small pool of blood had begun to clot at the side of your finger – the plaster merely a distraction from the elephant in the room. “I’ll go help him find one…” Jongho trailed off. You couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for the student, having to deal with such an eccentric (and potentially dangerous) boss. With both men gone, you sank back in your usual armchair to collect your thoughts; none of which were coming that well together however. Yeosang had always shown you kindness, as had Jongho – and even though there may have been a moment or two which raised the hairs on the back of your neck – no harm had really come of it. Gnawing at your lip, you realised that the pair had been gone for several minutes by now and you started to worry. Mainly for Jongho’s sake but you had grown quite fond of the pair over the last few months. Your footsteps were quiet against the plush carpet in the little alcove room. Almost afraid to disturb the moment of peace when you were alone, your hand slowly found the brass doorhandle and opened it without any preamble. You had known this was bound to happen. Your eyes still widened at the scene, anyhow.

Sat on a wooden chair was Jongho, hoodie discarded and sleeve rolled up, cradling a shaky Yeosang into the crook of his arm who had all but collapsed onto the floor. You could hear the occasional whimper and slurping sound from the library owner being soothed by his student – who also showed the odd twinge of discomfort on his face. Jongho’s eyes flitted towards you and gestured for you to close the door behind you. “I told him not to leave it too long…” he nonchalantly trailed off, stroking back tendrils of Yeosang’s hair from his face while he fed on the boy. “ack…boss, Yeosang…that’s enough now, our lovely regular is here.” A guiding hand brought Yeosang’s head up and the sight pulled at your heartstrings. Tear-tracks ran down his beautiful face and a shaky pale hand moved to cover his blood-stained mouth. He was eerily beautiful but you couldn’t help but feel for him. He looked regretful before you, helpless to his own condition. Slowly, you knelt down beside him on the floor, reaching forth to cradle his ethereal face between your hands. You thumbed away the tears that were staining his cheeks, a reverent moment amidst an objectively horrific situation. “We’ve got you, Yeosang. It’s ok – we’re here.” Your words to comfort him rang true, whether man or vampire, he was a good person.

“I’m so sorry, y/n. It may not look like it but I would never hurt you” Yeosang sobbed out. You watched as he delicately licked away the last remnants of Jongho’s blood on his lips and smiled at him. “I know. I had a feeling for quite a while and I still came back, didn’t I?”

“You did” he laughed softly, looking up to Jongho with big eyes. “You both did, in fact”. The university student beamed at this, softly rubbing his shoulder as you moved to hold the vampire’s hands to draw him to his feet. “Come on you two – no-one is out front! We can’t have anybody stealing your treasure now, can we?”

“No, I suppose not.”

You didn’t think you’d ever find out who owned the Night Library, but it turned out to be someone beautiful with a wealth of knowledge that only came with time.

And his handsome assistant.

Fin

(Please also read here on my AO3 if you'd like! )

[nelapanela94]

Nelaaaa!!! BB TODAY I AM HERE FOR SOME NELA X LEVI HEADCANONSJDJD .. tell me the little stufff toooooooo 🤍

Hi lovely. This one was so fun to write. <3 thank you for the request and please let me live in my delulu world 🌎

Levi and I currently live in Marley (What's left) in a coastal town where the streets finish at the beach.

Levi, though he doesn't admit it, is still afraid of the elevator. He just can't trust it. It jars him when it quivers right before stopping, and he hates it's tight and stuffy. He prefers swallowing the pain in his leg to risking getting stuck and climbs the stairs up to the third floor. And it is worse when the chains start to screech pleading for maintenance. In his defense, he claims it is a great exercise. He takes his time and says hi to the brats who live in the second floor. Sometimes he brings them desserts from the tea shop.

Levi loves sea food, specially shrimps. That is why I took some cooking classes with Niccolo. Steamed, stir-fried, tempura, in pastas, salads, rice and ceviche, I had to learn every preparation. Though we usually eat at home, we love trying new restaurants in town. From fancy to fast food. Once I tried to cajole Levi to a street food stall but he refused, questioning their cleaning procedures.

Levi owns a tea shop downtown that has been awarded twice by the city's chamber of commerce for excellence, quality and service. He was interviewed and his photo appeared in the newspaper, with Gabi and Falco thumbing up behind him. We still have the clippings of the articles, and Levi had the stars framed. He spends all day drinking tea, doing accounts, making payments to suppliers, bossing everyone around, the latter his favorite. When he loses his patience, he jabs the staff with his walking stick on the back of their knees. He also likes to go on Sundays to the spice market where herbs and spices from all corners of the world are found. He takes them home and experiments with them to develop new blends. Although sometimes we have purged by accident.

Meanwhile, I work at the post office right across the street and in my break time we had lunch together in his office and take naps.

We spend hours in the cleaning supplies aisle because Levi can't decide between lavender, cinnamon and apple or citronella. In any case, he decides on all three. One day after work, he brought home a wooden barrel with a crank handle. He explained that it was for washing clothes, although it took me a while to understand how it was operated. He acquired it at a home novelty fair after the inventor convinced him by promising to make our lives easier. I thought it was a scam, but he made it work! It really saves us time and I don't have to ruin my manicure anymore.

On my last birthday, Levi got me a gramophone. We love dancing in the living room despite our clumsy feet, and we’re often off the beat. But who cares, with a drop of wine sprinkling the mix, we hardly notice it. I’ve been collecting discs from thrift stores and garage sales, cramming our place, so Levi felt compelled to build a box to store them safely.

As you might guess, Levi is little fond of PDA. He only feels confortable holding hands, however, from time to time I’d steal a kiss to tease him. He grunts and mellows right after, blushing like a teenage boy kissing his crush for the first time. In private, on the other hand, he’s embarrassingly clingy (don’t ever mention it). When we’re reading in the sofa, he’d snuggle on my chest and loves it when I drop kisses on his head and coddle him. He loves hugs from the back and unexpected kisses on the cheek. Levi is milk with sugar but needs to keep a reputation.

We love traveling. For our honey moon, we visited a tropical island in hizuru. Roasted on the beach all day. He’s still wary of the sea water, can’t stand the slimy animals brushing his legs. But he enjoyed the scenery, the food, drinks and long loving sexy sessions in our suite with ocean view. We’ve been to other places, even though the voyage makes us seasick. We’ve seen temples, museums, archeological sites, lavender fields, all captured in photo albums.

Levi and I live a slow, tranquil life after the war. I think that we deserve that respite. <3